Full text of "Reprinted stories from the "Northern messenger" [microform] : for the young folks"

IMAGE EVALUATION 
TEST TARGET (MT-3) 




fe 




M/ 






/'^4^ 
< n^" 



/L 




fc 



<° 



1.0 



25 



l^|28 



I.I ? "^ iifi 



IL25 i 1.4 



i£ 



1.6 




Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 




23 WEST MAIN STREET 

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 

(716) 873-4503 



^^^ 



%-.<^ 
^ 



^^i^ 
^f^ 



CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 



CIHM/ICMH 
Collection de 
microfiches. 




Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques 





Technical and Bibliographic Notas/Notes techniques et bibliographiques 



The Institute has attempted to obtain the best 
original copy available for filming. Features of this 
copy which may be bibiiographically unique, 
which may alter any of the images in the 
reproduction, or which may significantly change 
the usual method of filming, are checked below. 



\- 



n 



D 
D 



D 



D 



Coloured covers/ 



Couverture de couleur 



I I Covers damaged/ 



Couverture endommagde 

Covers restored and/or laminated/ 
Couverture restaur^e et/ou pellicul6e 



I I Cover title missing/ 



Le titre de couverture manque 

Coloured maps/ 

Cartes gdographiques en couleur 



□ Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ 
Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) 

I I Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ 



Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur 

Bound with other material/ 
Relid avec d'autres documents 

Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion 
along interior margin/ 

La reliure serr^e peut causer de I'ombre ou de la 
distortion le long de la marge int^rieure 

Blank leaves added during restoration may 
appear within the text. Whenever possible, these 
have been omitted from filming/ 
II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajout^es 
lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte, 
mais, lorsque cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont 
pas 6t6 filmies. 

Additional comments:/ 
Commentaires suppl^mentaires: 



L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire 
qu'il lui a M possible de se procurer. Les details 
de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-dtre uniques du 
point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier 
une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une 
modification dans la methods normale de filmage 
sont indiqu^s ci-dessous. 



I I Coloured pages/ 



V 



V 



n 



Pages de couleur 

Pages damaged/ 
Pages endornmagdes 

Pages restored and/oi 

Pages restaurdes et/ou pelliculdes 



I I Pages damaged/ 

I I Pages restored and/or laminated/ 



Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ 
Pages ddcolor6es, tachetdes ou piqudes 



□ Pages detached/ 
Pages ddtach^es 



Showthrough/ 
Transparence 



I I Quality of print varies/ 



Quality indgale de I'impression 

Includes supplementary material/ 
Comprend du materiel suppldmentaire 

Only edition available/ 
Seule Edition disponible 



Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata 
slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to 
ensure the best possible image/ 
Les pages totalement ou partiellement 
obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure, 
etc., ont 6X6 film6es A nouveau de fa9on d 
obtenir la meilleure image possible. 



This item Is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ 

Ce document est film6 au taux de reduction indiqud ci-dessous. 

10X 14X 18X 22X 



12X 



16X 



20X 



26X 



30X 



24X 



28X 



D 



32X 



The copy filmed here hes been reproduced thanks 
to the generosity of: 

National Library of Canada 



L'exemplaire film6 fut reproduit grdce d la 
ginirositd de: 

Bibliothdque nationale du Canada 



The images appearing here are the best quality 
possible considering the condition and legibility 
of the original copy and in keeping with the 
filming contract specifications. 



Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed 
beginning with the front cover and ending on 
the last page with a printed or illustrated impres- 
sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All 
other original copies are filmed beginning on the 
first page with a printed or illustrated impres- 
sion, and ending on the last page with a printed 
or illustrated impression. 



The last recorded frame on each microfiche 
shall contain the symbol — ^ (meaning "CON- 
TIIMUED"). or the symbol V (meaning "END"), 
whichever applies. 



Les images suivantes ont 6x6 reproduites avec lo 
plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et 
de la netteti de l'exemplaire film6, et en 
conformity avec les conditions du contrat de 
filmage. 

Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en 
papier est imprim6e sont film6s en commengant 
par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la 
dernidre page qui comporte une empreinte 
d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second 
plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires 
originaux sont filmis en commen^ant par la 
premidre page qui comporte une empreinte 
d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par 
la dernidre page qui comporte une telle 
empreinte. 

Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la 
dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le 
cas: le symbole — ► signifie "A SUIVRE ", le 
symbole V signifie "FIN". 



Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at 
different reduction ratios. Those too large to be 
entirely included in one exposure are filmed 
beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to 
right and top to bottom, as many frames as 
required. The following diagrams illustrate the 
method: 



Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre 
film6s 6 des taux de reduction diff6rents. 
Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre 
reproduit en un seul clich6, il est film6 d partir 
de I'angle sup^rieur gauche, de gauche d droite, 
et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre 
d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants 
illustrent la mdthode. 



1 


2 


3 




1 


2 


3 


4 


5 


6 



y 



keprinted Stories 






%i^^ 



r ■■ 



^■'jiuii'igwwijwjK ' j ii wat] 



ass 



'e^r!^S.'Sfc~jSSH»a^)!«SSi3 




For the Young. 



"«?;-^ 



. ' Moalreal. JOHN DOOGALL & SON, '^Witness"' OITiCe. 



/ . 



• ♦ 



• • 



wmm 



"^ 



'"M^m miimm^mmm'immfi^mfmi'mgi 



1/ 









•«- 



f 



I 



, 



\ 



w 



i 



^^ 



y 



1 



Beprinted jStories 



FROM THE 



NORTHERN IVEESSENGER. 




y 



FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 



MONTREAL: 
JOHN DOUGALL & SON. 

I88& 



^»^ 



f^lMt-* 



«R-5^ 



V* 



^ .H 



r>. 



1 



f 



r;;i-l(''' ;>/ JOY ^HT >f()'l 



f'».- 



2: 



5? 



] 



Tl 



El 










PAOI. 

Chriitie'i Chrutmai 1 

A burae that counU. 3 

Monkey pockeU. 10 

Soldier anil thiitle 10 

A apider'a wob. 12 

The might of the pracioui lead U 

Anoc<lt)te8 of nwallowa. 16 

The gn«t ant-eater. 18 

Binl'a neat aoup. 20 

How buya' piarblcs are made 2B 

Tlie water waifa 26 

Picture leaaona 27 

The rulea of Eliiabeth Fry. 29 

How to become happy 33 

llefore pena. 36 

A remarkable neat 35 

" Nobleaau oblige " 40 

How gun harrela are made. 41 

Two waya of looking at it 41 

A noble dog and canary 43 

The thimble 43 

Wealth in the aea. 43 

Little Ja pa neae 46 

Boya read and heed thia 46 

Tlie forceps crab. 46 

Preaencc of mind. 46 

Buttons. 47 

"Didn't I, Dant". 47 

The ten commandmenta. 47 

Making a queen 47 

A cliRractcriatic of self-made men 47 

Bod Dane 48 

Fre<ldie Wray'a accident. 64 

Boy inventoraL 65 

Jeasio'a goo<l day 66 

Drawing lesson 66 

Which is worse 66 

One bit*- of a cherry 66 

May-haves and must-haves. 56 

A doll's work 66 

Changing babies. 67 

Concerning prayer. 67 

Watch crystals. 68 

Shadow pictures and silhouettes. 69 

The fate of a herd of buSaloes. 69 

About poison-ivy 60 

A true history of two boys. 61 

Metamorphosis of the deer's antlers. 62 

The tin savings-bank 63 

Another talk with Uncle Philip 64 

Yema. 66 

An old-faahioned animal 66 

About spiders 67 

How the Qospel came to Ono 68 

The coachman's prayer. 69 

Doing things welL 69 

Emperor and prisoner. 70 

Frank's security 71 

Something about ducks. 72 



PAOI. 

William Wilberforce 73 

Willy's haM place 73 

Dogs in Oerman regiments 73 

Aurora Borealia ...."' 73 

The Chipmonk 74 

Faithfulness 74 

Father's kneeling-placo 74 

A shocking eel 74 

Flying without wings 76 

The great royal KamtachaUca R.R 76 

The boy that drew the baby's picture 77 

The parrot's memory 77 

How to love God 77 

One step at a time 77 

A Christian's choice 77 

A mother's love 78 

Bail bargains 78 

Judge Payne'e short sermon 78 

A dog stops a runaway horse 76 

A kind horae i 78 

The gymnast of the aea. 79 

The last strand of the rope 80 

A sailor's story 80 

Honesty in a child 80 

Circumventing the wolves 81 

A strange library 81 

Converted by a telegram 81 

Paradise flycatcher 82 

John Welch and the friar 82 

The Master said so 82 

The mantis. 83 

An asphalt lake 83 

A little behind 83 

Carnarvon Castle 84 

True politeness 84 

How a birtl outwitto<l the monkeys 85 

How a little girl suggested the invention of the 

telescope 86 

How plants come from seeds 86 

The fox, the monkey, and the pig 86 

He lost hia head 87 

Helen'a diflSonlty 87 

The horafaUl 88 

A cataract that rushes np the river 88 

The yak 89 

A shark story 89 

How love removed a mountain 90 

Anecdote of Baron Rothschild 90 

To boys, on habits of study 90 

The Khedive of Egypt and his wife 91 

A true story 91 

The magic dance 92 

A birthday gift 92 

Nellie's verse 92 

The dead raven 92 

The feunec, or Sahara fox 93 

An idol tried and found wanting 93 

Chinese children 94 

" Until seventy times seven " 94 



Paul. 

Hammer-lieadfd shark 96 

New year'a day in Jhftn 96 

A bible baked in a loaf of bread 95 

How Benny aent notea to hia mamma 96 

A guo<l word for the Engliah aparrow 96 

Blackboa^l temperance lesson 97 

The time for revenge 97 

A wise mother 97 

Let me go 97 

A useful gander 97 

Suckers, and aome who uae them 98 

The true standard 99 

Prayer barrels 99 

The intelligent cormorant 100 

An ancient village of the Onondagas. 100 

Auka' eggs 100 

The lady and the burglars. 101 

Cancelled and nailed up 101 

The atory of Sin Chin 102 

Getting a situation 102 

Murillo'a mulatto 103 

Locust calcm 1 03 

Tlio edible mussel 104 

" I know a thing or two" 101 

Tlie sinner's pleo 1 04 

An old click's advice 104 

Queer conveyancea 105 

Chinineya : their history 105 

The awearer reproved by a child 105 

Tim restored teeth 105 

From a [wstor'a note-book 1 06 

Home-made telephones 106 

The thimble IOC 

The lotus 107 

Truth 107 

"Forme" 107 

The Kiant heron lOK 

A feathered ahepheni lOH 

Trimming tlic elephant's feet lOK 

Kanavniona 109 

Molly's white Rose 109 

The giant snapping turtle 110 

Tommy learns almut toads 110 

A plan in life HO 

" I'll do it ; " or the broken jar Ill 

Without strength Ill 

The gray head by the hearth Ill 

Grebes and their nests 112 

Sir John Lubbock and his ants 112 

Ye did it not 112 

Fine feathers 113 

Silent influence 113 

Casting all your cares U)>on him 113 

A shattered Testament 113 

Ways to do good 113 

Engraved eggs 114 

Drowning the stjuirrel 114 

The Cape buffalo 114 

How pins are mode ....115 



r 



INDEX. 



FAOK 

M.ikiiiM gluhv* I lA 

lln..v» lift 

Tl.. kitcli..|i K'"I n.n 

A |'iii<'.ii|i|i|c lirlil III IhrniiiiU I Itl 

I iillllli;; till' iM'liiilli 117 

Till' \ irtiii' of II rliiM-rdil fare 117 

A |ilui'ky Imui iniMtrii tor 117 

A l>inl llint liul|M itwK t<i ojrilen IIH 



k;lit». 



IlK 



lliiu wiuhIi'Ii aliiMM »tr miuin 1 1** 

llaliicK III Siiiliililliivjil I |H 

IV rum.. ..r lliinllwi: list 

A «n iniiilli' II'' 

M.in- M.iinlfrful timii tlif tclivnipli \M 

.l..lin \V..»lr.v« i'«.-«lK. 120 

\V..iiM iii't il.i (.>r a luii-ii miiiiufiii'turor 120 

T..in'*K'"l'l«lu»l 120 

Till' liiliui'l iinwownry 121 

Til.' arlill.rv fi'iii 121 

M-rn Clirislnm», nmniiiia 122 

Tililf uuiiiiiirK 122 

A (ainily niiMicumn- sucioty 122 

lli.w I iiilly li-ariii'il her leiwm 12.1 

Kailli . 123 

Willie's luniiT-iiigecm 124 

Instant in iH>a»>n 1 24 

A prayiT 124 

I'ray, ami ImnK on 124 

Sli.lU 12.') 

( "liarliti'ii prpxent 12.% 

Till' Imikfii window 12.'5 

Till' •liM'.nery of tho niunimoth 126 

Tlir..' Iil.i.k raU 126 

!.fj;fn.l of lliu ilfphant 127 

Wliat i> the use of snakes. 127 

(jiu.er fruit of an oak 128 

The wisliiii); stone, ami liow it was loat 12H 



Turtle 



.128 



lVe]i sea wonilers 129 

Kurs useit for ladies' clo&ka 129 



1 



I'Aill. 

Olluloid 129 

Thn ele|iliRiit and lliv a|ii- 139 

Cnxiil nianner* 129 

How to Kel rich ISO 

It ni.iy Ih. fun for lh« d<i((» . I no 

Chrisliaii Hynii>«lhy 1:1" 

A lly's nioutU 1.10 

A llohle reply l;lO 

Kindly loiideseBniion 1.10 

l>aiiKerelitr. 131 

If not, why iiotl 131 

Seeing the (liMi|M'l 131 

The swean'r lUred 131 

Another don story 132 

I>niwiiiK li'HHon 132 

(.'areli'ss Toiniiiy 132 

Captain lloxall's suxxeation 133 

How iharai'ter (,'rowii 133 

Haniel WehstiT 133 

Wroim-doiiiK 133 

Twol.lue pencils 131 

No weiwhts 134 

How I.] 1.0 ^oihI and happy 131 

True iKiliteneiw 1 3.% 

The lailor-hird 135 

A horse whieh made a aciiaation LI.") 

IntelliKent hona 13.1 

Over the (alls 13r, 

A tliorou)<h job 136 

(ilailstone's heart 136 

llil.le pmyers and aniwem 136 

A newspaper scrap 136 

The musir-lioy miiwion 137 

Kind treatment of horsen 137 

How Santa Claus cured Ilattia 13M 

Tlie new year's niessage 139 

Work for Isiys and girU 139 

For the little ones 139 

Tho hints' Cliristmag tree 139 

Salt mackerel 139 




PAIIK. 

Till' loiigi'st day ill the year 1 10 

hrii ting lewoli 140 

The lanih and the (Kiny 1 tO 

I'he fanner's friend 141 

A little . hild's inlliienep 141 

The King ul Siain 142 

I*«l«r 113 

Wliat's the rwnon 1 113 

Kailway .lack 1)4 

A monkey to ap|i«ar n« a witnem 144 

How to succeed 141 

The liianl's gloven .144 

t'olois of the nky Ill 

Tlin'c great physicians 144 

The Kittlelield 14ft 

S|K.il from the heathen I6S 

What isamU'rl l.'\8 

The I,onrsl».x 1.18 

Mvsic. 

CliiM ..fa King 10 

I >lmll he satisfiwl 37 

I Ihwanl, Christian aoldiere 99 

If you have a pleasant thought 137 

• 

I'oETBT. 

The prodigal son 12 

The friend at midnight 22 

Lines (jii giving 73 

The rats ami the meal 90 

I'lKir, sad humanity 92 

Itriice anil the spider 106 

C.randpa, you do look sweet 123 

llo it now 130 

The SulUn of the l-j«t 131 

Rest follows lalxir 131 

The Mind Iwy 1.1.1 

Tw.> and one H4 



inlK'l 
T. 
iroml 
in »[ 

villul 
rulilil 
iiij,''') 

Willi f 

clllpl 

IlKHttT 

iiig:li 

miul.l 
pitcll 







P4IIIC. 
ItO 

.HO 
III) 
141 
III 

. 1 1-.' 

. 1 »;i 
I i.'i 
III 
III 
.III 
III 
III 
III 
li:> 
ins 

I .IN 

ins 



. 10 

. 37 

09 

137 



. 12 

00 

. 73 
. «0 
. 92 
.106 
.123 
,130 
.131 
.131 
.135 
144 



f I 



Beprinted Stories. 






•«•-#- 



TUM LOVIOKINS lUiTlIUN. 

Mr. niid Mth. Ldvi-kin luul 
nuich Iroulilc Willi llu'ir noii 'rmn. 
Tom l^ovi'kiii Imd lifcii rcctiirni/.t'tl 
Iroin IiIm fiiriy youth iin ilio Icadrr 
in ull iiiiHi'hiovoiiH (lectin in liin 
villuKi'. Wiw tliiTc iin orrliiml 
rol)l)cd ill u i)i'<iiliiirly lioid ()r 
iiiKciiidiiN iiiitiiiii'i', Tom l.,ovi'Kiii 
Willi 8Urf to 1)1' Hf( down an llic 
culprit; did uiiicloii piilcli loNi'^its 
liioHt i>ri/.cd Hidii-rcs during the 
nijrht, Tom Lovckin, it would he 
mud, paid it a visit ; wan ihvrt' a 
pitchi'd hattlu on tlio wtri'i't he- 



cniiNOorhiN hi'iiin <liK('ov<'r«d. Uii 
(iliK occaMion thi! tlfprfdiitioiin ul 
Tom Lovt'i.iit' NkirmiNlii'N in u 
raid on Sijuiu' Itii-h b onhurd 
wrrc »« >{rt'al that thi! whoU- 
villaKi- wan in arinit. The lioyN 
t'liKa^cd in the loray to do thfir 
licMt could not cat ull they hud 
Htiilcn, uiid huviiig no iiicuiin ol' 
hiding it, Tom L«vckin'» recep- 
tacle under thu lied wum thought 
or and utilized lor the occasion. 

>Sliortly ulter the udveiituro 
Scjuire liich Hcoidcntly culled on 
Mr. l.i(ivekin to examine Kome 
pluim thul thu luttcr hud been 



propoMud to carry a car through j 
the uir ul the rate ol u mile a 
minute, — " more or Ichn," ho used 
to add when Npeakiiig on tliiN 
Nuliject. "Voii cannot meusure the 
Kpeed and power ol ihene in- 
veiitionti in the head, Mr, iiki- 
thoNc which huve long lieeli j 
worked out. The Nlight advan-l 
tage which might lie gained liy 
lexhening u crunk or eiilurging the 
circumlerence ol u wheel might 
luuke u dillereiice ol thirty iiiiIcn 
an hour. The air in nut like the 
ruilroud, sir; we huve no hills to 
decreuNU our Hiieed, no ruili* to 



"dp in^my r<ium, lather; I wun 
trying to practiite on it ho that yon 
could I'XhiliU It at the next 
Ashliurn lair." 

"What u good lioy ihiN ia ol 
mine, ^S4uiru Kich ! it ull the 
lioyN ol (ireeiidale were like him 
llirre would lie no troulile ; no 
rolilimu ol orchards, no lights or 
such tilings then, iSijuire Kich. 
"(io up stairs, loin, and lirilig it 
(low n. ' 

"Let tin go up with liiin" xuid 
the ^>l(llIre, with u sly chuckle to 
hiniscll, "and then we cull tiee 
how he pructmcs Hying." 




Iween the boys of the rival schools, 
Tom Lovekiii's strategical inove- 
ments were discussed lor weeks 
nlterwards by the pence-loving 
neighbors, who could not under- 
stand what had got into the lioys 
since they were young, preventing 
them from meeting and parting 
in good friends. And although 
when Tom Lovekin was question- 
ed on such subjects his face bore 
every sign of innocence and sur- 
prise, it might be remarked that 
after nearly every loray under- 
neath Tom's bed there was to be 
found the most luscious melon, 
the roundest, reddest cheeked 
apple, the finest pears, or perhaps 
he carried home the blackest eye 
in all the country side. These ull 
were trophies of which Tom was 
not a little proud. But his great 
success in these forays were the 

^ — 

i \ 



working on lor some time to dis- 
cover perpetual motion, lor Tom's 
lather's attention was so taken up 
with his machines and inventions 
that Tom's home education and 
training was coniined to his 
mother. But his mother had 
enough to do with her manifold 
duties, for more fell to her share 
than should have done, through 
her husband's vagaries, and lor 
the most part Tom's home training 
wus left to himself, and us we 
have seen the elfects were not the 
most satisfactory. 

But to continue our story, when 
Mr. Kich had examined the diller- 
eut attempts to get a wheel, or a 
lever, or a bull, or a magnet, to 
move forever, he was not ullowed 
to depart. Mr. Lovekin had many 
years before endeavoured to make 
a flying machine, by which he 



break and shake a man ull to bits, 
ill the uir, no bridges to iro over 
slowly, re(jiiire no brakesnu'ii to 
slacken 81 eed or nothing of that 
sort; we have only currents in 
the air to contend willi, and this 
I propose to overcome by mak- 
ing ;" let this dusli represent 

the rest of the learned disquisition 
on wheels, and crunks, uiid wings, 
and tails, by which the currents 
of the uir were to lie overcome. 
Of course Mr. Kich could not be 
allowed to go away w itliout seeing 
the wonderliil machine, and Mr. 
Lovekin unlocked the box in 
which it wus packed, but no 
muchiiie was to be seen. 
" Tom ! Tom ! ! Tom ! ! ! " 
" Ye-e-s, Sir-r-r", from a distance. 
Tom arrives. 

"Tom where is my flying 
machine ?" 



"It's MO dillercnce." said Tom, 
who saw the old man's schciiie ; 
"1 call lly here Just as well " 

"lint it would be too much 
trouble to liiiiiir it down ; but 
neviT mind, h.we it your own 
! way." 

j 'I'om went up rejoicing, not 
iiiiiigiiiing that the f^quire and his 
father were lnjlow ilig at his heels. 
Ills surprise can be imagined 
wlu'ii just as he was dragiringthe 
iiiuchiiie Iroiii his never-l'uiliiig 
receptacle under the bed the old 
men entered the room. 

"Dear me ! what u 
perfuiiii" you have here, 

"I'ears, 1 declare!' 
father. 

"I'iuins and apples, apricots 
too, ' said M r. Rich. " U hat a rich 
boy you must be to have all of 
these I Come give us one, Tom."«j 



delicious 
Tom." 
said liis 



II 



-|>^@ 



ffiH^ 



\ 



II 



4 



'I'nin'ii fnrt" i?rov¥ red, •nil nil 
hiHut'ir-poiiHfBHiim lofl liiiii. "Tom! 
'roiii '" mini 111* JHlhtT, "wlieri-'n 
lhi> iiiiir|iiiii''ii liiil ^' 

"I know," hiikI ihi< iH|nir«',")ron 
rnn liinl it linii'/niir on my null. 
I wontliTi'il how iinvboily I'oiiM 
)^i>t ovt-r win-n I liiiil it newly 
itpiki'il II iiiontli iku'o Let iix »ff 
your tifii»iiri'N, Tom " 

Tom proiiiiri'il tlicm, anil out 
thi'v rojli'il in uri'ui iiriihiiiion 

\Vliiil wii.s lohi-iloni' Willi liim f 

" Miiki> It Hiiilor of liiiii." Kiinl 
tin- Si|uiri' ; "I'll iri-t liini i lirrtli 
on till- ' \ iiriliint.' IIi-'ll I'omo 
Itiii'k II lii'lliT lioy;"iinil lui uiriMnxl 
IiIk mollii'r'x proti xiiitionx unil 
ti'iirH 111- wiiM di-nt to siTVi- ao a 
Nciiiiiiin in Hit Mai<'>ty'it Nnvy. 

Many vi'iirN lia.s ln' Ih'i'Ii iiwiiy, 
unil 111- hiiM provi'il u i;>>o<l niiiii. 
IliN nioiluT iinil I'litlirr liiiv<> 
);rown olil ill till' iii<-iiiiiim<' ; ili>-ir 
only romrort in an iiiloptcil cliilil 
who hi'iriii" lo rriiiiml ihi-Mi of 
Tom ami wciirs hi« name. Tom 
is all Ihi' talk ilav aiiil niuhl. The 



KKI'UINTKI) MOKIKS. KIIOM TIIK •• NOUTIIKHN MKSSKN(JKU 
I 



thai I li-ll Very ilitairoiiN to h«i> 
liovv It waa <'oiii|iirti-i| in Ihiit 
lamily For in all my viniiN I hml 
oliHi-rvi-il II rrniarkahly kiiiil ili-- 
iiiinnor lifiwi'i-n th« varioUN 
iiK-iiilti-rx, ami wiim <liNpoNi>il to 
lh>-ik till' Itihli-li-MNoiiii wi-ri' 
Miiilioil with Hoiiii' ifooil ri'KiillN. 

Thi> i-v-'iiini; iiii'al lii'lnu- nvir. 
all wild coulil mill took a llilili'. 
wliili- Ida, Mi'atliiu' liiTNi'lr at the 
im-loi|iMin. roiiiin<'iiri'>l a liyniii, ill 
the NiiiifinK III wliii'li all jiiitn-il. 
It WHS alioiil thi> I'liihl .'^Jiiniii'l, 
anil that wat tlii> niiIiJitI of tlii> 
IrMMiii Till' fathi-r ri'iiil lln- piia- 
Mitfi' Irom tin- llibh', nIowIv iiml in 
an inipri-KHivi' nuiniiiT. Ili' llii>n 
naiil, ■ Now Irl i-arli om- ;fivi' 
Noim'lliiiiK wliirh lhi>y liavn 
li'ariii'il V.I rri;aiil to tlio Ii-hhoii or 
ri'pi-at a text." 

Ilol tlii'ii saiil lii>r viTNi', in haliy 
ai'r-niN, " till' I'hiUl (lid miniHtt>r 
unto ilii> Lord." 

" What in minititiT, my littli^ 
one ! " aaki-il hi-r falhi-r. 

Doinir thill's for mamniii, and 



fatluT has ifivn up bin search for papa, too, I doss." Thon dimhiiig 
pi-rpetual motion and hiRtinkeriiitr into hor mother's lap and neatlin^ 
at the llyinir marhine, and inatead , her ourly head in her hosom she 
devotes his spare time to makinir ! added, " And for the dood Popa 



ship models and other nautical 
articles. 

Now he is reading Ihe news- 
paper a few "lavs old, and his eve 
coines arross the notice, " The 
' \ iifilaul' isonlereil home and is 
expected ni'Xt week." 

"Then we may expect Toin in 
a few ilav.s," says the mother. 
" I Wonder liow he looks .' He 
must lie twi'nty-six now. Ten 
years is a lonir, long time to 
lie away." 

" Is'l'oin I oiiiiir home, mamma ? 
Then vou won't talk so much 
aliout iiim will you ?" said Tom 
junior. 

The door opens and a broad. 



in heaven." 

" The child has cautrht the 

spirit of the text," said Mr. W , | 

" Now, Archie." | 

Aichie, the live-year old boy, ■ 
snid, "There was another little 
boy who w.^nt into the tetiiple, 
who never wannauffhly too. But 
he did not live there like Samuel. 
.And he \v. IS always ifood.Just as ^ 
Ifooil an can be It was .lesus." 

"Oh, please, (lapa. that was | 
mine," said little Dora. " Hut 
never mind, Archie dear, you did I 
s.iy that so nice. I'll say two j 
verses: ' And Samuel ifrew and 
the Lord WII.S with him, and did 
let none of his words fall to the ' 



bronzed, smiliiiL' face, the index of j irround.' ' And Jesus increased in I 
a stroiiir, lieariv frame, peeps in. | wisdom and stature and in favor 
It is fallowed l.y the body itself, j with (jod and man.'" ] 

and Iheie is in the room a sailor. "Very well8aid,liltledauj^hter," , 

The lather look.s lip from hi-, paper , remarked Mr. W . To which 

with nil astonished look, but the ' Dora replied, " Oh ! but, papa, I 



mother's eye ha.s rerocrnized her 
son and he is clasped in her arms 
once airain. 

THK LKSSON AT IIOMK. 

IIY M\U\ v. ll.VI.E. 

'■ It is lesson-iiii;lit ilon't trotill 
alter ten," said a little frienii, with 
whose parents I liail recently 
become aci(uaiiited, and on whose 
mother I wa.s inakin<; a call. 

" Lesson-niirht ! And what do 
you do, Dora ? " I asked. 

" ( Ih, we have little stories and 
Bible text.s 
thiiiirs ; and 



lid not lind them myself. Mamma 
found them ; but when we talked 
over the li sson with her, I wanted 
to tell that which Archie just said." 

After some remarks by Mr. 

W , an older boy alluded to 

the fact that Samuel rose immedi- 
ately upon beinir called, each time, 
sbowin!; his rendiness (o obey. 
He added, " I should think tin- 
sons of lili would have felt 
reproved bv Samuers attention to 
their father." 

Mr \V made some reply, 

and pa explains and then Ida irave a brief state- 
it's so nice. But we ment of the duties of the liiirh 



all brinij somethin!r. and Ida — ' priest, and in what manner Samuel 
that's my older sister— calls it n probably aided him. And as a 

lesson-picnic Kven Dot, the dar- further help, Mrs. W .showed 

lintr, says a little verse. Dostay," i a picture of the sacred furniture 

urired Dora. in the holy place, callinir to mind 

And biHntr cordially solicited by some things which had been 

Mrs. W , my youns friend's ; learned in previous lessons. 

mother, I remained. Indeed, a It^asan unconstrained, familiar 
Sunday-school lesson, studied at i exercise, the father takini; notice 
home by parents and children, is ' of each child's part by some litting 
W) so rare a thing in these busy days ; response or question. And when 



tiach one had spoken, all roiitinued 
to talk or ask iiuestions upon the 

stlbjeclN of the lesson A brief 
appropriate story was usually told 
for the beiielil of the youilirer ones 
" Nothinir helps better to fa- 
iiiiliarixe our minds with Scripture 
truth in my opinion," said .Mr. 

\V , " than this slmlyinu' the 

lesson to^rrther And we think 
It has a t{ood inllueiiie upon the 
daily life ol bolli parents and 
children." — S. S. Time: 



I CAN'T II KU* IT 
That was what Harry Day 
always said when he was told of 
any of bis bad liabils : " 1 can't 
help it;" which really meant, "I 
don't Irish to help it;" because 
We know Well enoiittli that we 
can every one of us " liel|i"doinif 

wroiiif if we try in the riulit way. 

Once Harry came u|Min an old 
story in a worn, soiled book which 
he routed out of a chest in the 
lumber-closet, and this story set 
him thinkinir, as it may, perhaps, 
set some other youiuf folks think- 
illi( about the reason why it is 
necessary lo resist what is bad in 
its earliest beij^iiininir. 

" Long ago there lived an old 
hermit who had left the busy 
world for a cell in the desert, and 
who was reputed to be learned 
and wise. 

"Many people used lo visit the 
loiieiy man that they miirhl receive 
his advice, and once a youth came 
lo him who begired to stay with 
him for a time as Ins pupil. 

" The hermit consented, and the 
iirst day hi> led his young com- 
panion into a small wood near 
to their humble dwelling. Look- 
ing round, he pointed to a very 
young oak tree Just hhooting fiom 
the ground. 

" ' I'ull up that sapling from the 
root,' said he to his pupil, who 
obeyed without any difficulty. 
They went on a little farther, and 
the old man pointed to another 
tree but also a young one whose 
roots struck deeper. This was 
not so easy to pull upas the Iirst 
had been ; but with several ell'orts 
it was accomplished. 

" The third had grown quite tall 
and strong, so that the youth was 
a long lime before he could tear 
it up; but when his master pointed 
to a fourth, which was still larger 
and stronger, he found that, try iih 
he might, it was impossible to 
move it. 

" ' Now, remember and lake 
heed to what you have seen,' said 
the hermit. ' The bad habits and 
passiona of men are just like these 
trees of the wood. When young 
and tender they may bo easily 
overcome, but let them once gain 
lirm root in your soul, and no 
human strength is sufficient to get 
rid of them. Watch over your 
heart, and do not wait till your 
faults and passions have grown 
strong before you try to uproot 
them." 

That was the end of the story ; 



m 
Harry 



I can t 

lips he 

So he 



but, as I have said, it set 
Day thinking, and when " 
help it " was rising (o Ins 
was ashamed lo utter it. 
set himself to the Work of master- 
iiig his lein|ier, his idleness, and 
all that I'onsrieiiee told him was 
amiss Tlioiiirh this Is a work 
that IN not done in an hour or a 
day, or even a year, it will be 
eU'eeted al last (perliaps alter many 
failures! by prayer and perse- 
veranee ; nay, it must be done 

unless we \\iNli lo I ome the 

servants and the slaves of bIii. — 
^f. Y. Ohntrver. 

- ..-♦■ 

AFUAID OK TIIK DARK 
Hell was a sweet child of three 
or four years. She was briifht 
pleasant by day, but having 



and 

been once friglilened by a nurse 
about " the dark " she would cry, 
if she woke in the nii;hl, to be 
taken into her inolliei's bed. 

But her mother said, ' No, |{e||, 
you must lie still in your little 
crib ; but you may hold my hand 
whenever you wake up." 

So very often t' '' -l" r mother 
would be wakened by the touch 
of a Nilken hand. She would 
clasp it I . • erown. and very soon 
the dear baby would be oil' again 
lo the land of dreams 

Bell had never been separated 
from her mother a single nielli 
But the lady took heron her knee 
one day and told her that dear 
grandma was very ill and was 
goinu: lo die, and that she must iro 
away for a few days to be with 
her. " Are you willing I should 
go and comrort her ' " she asked 

Te.irs lilled the blue eyes of 
little Bell, and she choked so that 
she could scarcely speak : " Yes, 
y es, mamma; I want you to go 
and comfort grandma, but — but— 
who'll hold my little hand when 
I'm afraid of the dark ? Papa don't 
wake up as you do ! " 

" My dear baby," said the kind 
mother, " il is Jesus and not I, 
who keeps you from harm by day 
and night He is always beside 
that little bed, and if you wake 
and miss me, He will take your 
hand." 

"Then you may go, juamma;'' 
said Bell, smiling through her tears. 

That night when Bell's lather 
went to his room, he turned up 
the gas a little, that he might see 
I the dear baby face in Ihe crib. 
There was a smile oyer the rosy 
lips, and the little hand was 
stretched out as if foi the grasp of 
some protecting hand. 

Perhaps in her dreams she was 
reaching out her hand to Jesus. 

He who said " Of such is tin 
kingdom of her yen," has all the 
dear little ones in His keeping 
day and night ; and they are salVi 
with Ilim." — Watrhman. 



Thk Seeds of Gun Punishment 

are sown when we commit sin ; 

j the punishment itself is sure to 

I come, sooner or later, as the inevita- 

' ble haryestof our sowing. — Hesiod. 




•^ 



r 



^i 



I, it net Hurry 
wlliMl " I run t 

let llIN li|IN llll 

lli-r II. So li«< 
'iirk (if iiiiiNltir- 

i lllll'llrNN, IIMll 
llllll llilll WIIN 

iIh In ji work 

I Jill lioiir or n 
iir, it will 1)11 
ii|ii itlicr iiiiiiiy 

T llllll (HTNIt- 
lUnt lie tloilf 
I Imtoiiii' the 
lnvt'ii of liii. — 



III': DARK 
chilli III' lliri'c 
II' wiiH liriirht 
ly. lint linviiii^ 
I'll liy Ik iiiirmi 
sill' woiilil rry, 
■ iiiiihl, to Ik; 
Iii'i'n Iti'd. 

.iii.l, ■ No, Hi'll, 
ill voiir Hull' 
liolil my hiiiiil 

I' U|>." 

' '1" r mother 
i liy I he toilrh 
I. She woiil'l 
, mill very hodii 
III III' oll'iii^iiiii 
UN 

lieeii Ni'|>nriili'il 

II Niiiule iiiulil 

ler on her knee 

her thai deiir 

y ill mill WIIH 

ml nIii' iiiUKt IT" 

VN to tie with 

lliiii; I nHoiiIiI 

! " mIu' nskeil 

1)1 lie eyeN of 

:hokeil HO tliiit 

Hpeiik : " Yen, 

vunt yon to fjit 

nil, liut — hut — 

tie hiiiul when 

k? Pupa don't 

I " 

' said tho kind 
UN and not I, 
in hiirin hy day 
lilwayB henide 
1 if you wake 
will lake your 

go, mamma ;'' 
rouijhher tears. 
n Uell'H lather 

he turned up 
t he might tiee 
CO in Iho crib. 

over tho rosy 
tie hand was 
i'oi the grasp of 
ind. 

Ireains she was 
and to Jesus. 
Of suoh is tho 
n," has all tho 
n His keeping 
d tlioy aru safe 
hman. 



m rilNISHMKNT 

re commit sin ; 
tself is sure to 
3r,astheinevita- 
)wing. — Hesiiid. 



KKIMUNTKI) SI'dJllKS. |."IH)M rili: • NOHTIIKUN MKSSKNdKn" 
ClIUIHTIKS OIIHISTMAH 



9^^ 



NT rAIMT. 

CIIAPTKR I 
It b<i,fan, likn moat Cliri*tiii«a 
day*, a long whilo iM-lnrelitiid. 
That In, the gpitinir realy lor ii 
beuaii The Irnlli i<, It witn one 
Very wiinn day in AiiirUHl that ihe 
plan* lor ( liimiies (>hriiitiiiii« 
wero funned. They were all out 
under llie i;real elm-tree in the 
hack yard, .it work trying to keep 
cool , an Karl laid, who had hm 
torn HliMW hat I'ur a Ian, and waa 
lyiiii; at lull length under the 
tree. ('liriHiie waa aewiiig, tak- 





OllUlSllli WAH 8KWINII. 

inir ({iiick little businesg-like 
gtiti'hPH on a long seain, the haliy 
was pulling lirst at her work, and 
then at Karl's hat ; Nettie was 
under tlie tree, loo, hut fast anleep, 
one chuhliy hand supporting her 
red cheek. Tho mother nf all 
these little Tuckers was there.too, 
■ewing another long seam. There 
was ever so much to do in the 
Tucker family, and when any of 
them sat down to rest, there was 
sure to ho long seams to sew, 
patches to set, or holes to darn. 

■' Knrl," tho mother said, " keep 
the flies off Nettie, can't you V 
they are eating her up." 

" I must go," said Karl, but he 
arose on t<;ie elbow and began 
lazily to tan away the flies ; " I 
guess my half-hour is up ; father 
said I was to rest for half an hour, 
because my cheeks got so red be 
was afraid 1 would be sun-struck ; 
it is awful hot out in the Held. 
I'll tell you where I wish I was 
this minute ; I'd like to be in uncle 
ilaniel's ice-house. What a thing 
it must be to have ice-houses and 
everything you want." 

" We can have an ice-house just 
as well AS not, by Christmas 
time," said Christie, biting otf her 
thread; " If I had a chance to be 
at uncle Daniel's a little while, I'd 
take care to see something difiier- 
^ ent from ice-houses — something 
j I that we can't ever hare." As she 



apok», she drew a long breath, 
like one whoan heart was full ol 
thliiua that she inlvht say, if she 
would. Karl wnlehod tier onri- 
ounly rroiii Im'Iii'hI hm hat 

"What ihiiig* are there at 
uiK'U Uaniel'ii that yiui never ex- 
pert !o hariiy he aHked at laat. 

" LutHof thein.earpelii, and nice 
furniture, and inetiireN. ami hooka, 
and a piano, oh my !" She caught 
her liruatli auain. and aeenu'd to 
think it lieHt to Hlop, lent alie 
ahould aay too inueli. 

" 1 wouliln't earo a lig lor Ihe 
rariiels and luriilture, but I'd like 
well enough to have some of the 
books. A history or two, 
maybe, and, like enoiiiiih, a 
jihyHieai ^reo'.rraphy : but 
ihoHi' lliinuH I iiii'an to have 
touio day, willioiit ijoiiig 
to UIH'le Dalllel'ii Wliiit 
good would It do to look 
at thinva, if you didn't 
own tliein I" 

" I think it would be 
nice ' hiive Olio goo. I look 
V ;hem all ; you eouxl 
iliiiik out liow other lolks 
live a great deal eaiier 
alter that. ' 

" Well." xaid Karl, after 
a tlimiglillul pauHe, " may- 
be you will have a clinU'e 
Rome day ; it ihu'I ho awlul 
far '> uncle Daniel's, now 
that liie ' il- iy is done. 
How do you know nut you 
will go and make them n 
viiil V' 

Over this nild BUguoS' 
lion, Christie laughed, and 
broke her thiead in her 
nervoiiBiies.'* ; but the 
mother looked up with a 
Hignilicaiil nod of her heai? " I 
mean you shall, child," she said 
deeideilly ; " 1 ineant it for n sur- 
piise, but mayho you will like 
thinking it over, and planning for 
it, better than the surprise. Your 
father and I miide up our minds 
that wii would have you go and 
Bpeiid a whole day at your uncle 
Daniel's, and see all the things 
J hat you want to see so much ; 
they've invited us often enough 
and we mean to do it" 

Karl sal upright, and his cheeks 
were nearly as red as Christie's 
and both the children »aiil 
'•When?" ill KUch lou<l. eay:er 
tones, that th ' liiiby imiiiiMlialely 
said it alter them, an<l then 
sat down on the grass and 
l.iughed immoderately at her 
own smartne.'is. As she had 
never said this word before, 
Christie, even in her excitement, 
had to bund down and kiss the 
baby's mouth. 

•Well," said Mrs. Tucker, 
speaking slowly and impressively, 
" if nothing more than we know 
of now, happens, we have decided 
that you shall spend the whole of 
Christinas day at your uncle's. 
Ton are to go up on the train that 
passes at bevon in the morning, 
and back on the six o'clock, 
and that will give yon nine whole 
hours at your uncle Daniel's. I'm 
sure that will give you time to 



see a good many thinga. I don't tlicn they oujlit In have mittena. 
know what your father will nay too.or Homelhiiiir.hut I don't know 
to iiiv telling you of it, bill you do »» we rmilil in itia«i' about ao 
like io dreiiin out things BO well, I i'mh'i \ irn , dear im' ' there ia a 
thoiiifhl you might liki to dream great , nl to do, and only a liltio 
over llial." till! ■ to do it III , Hot i|uile four 

■till my : " aald Cliriatie ; herluonlha, I deilare ' Mow time 
woilv lell at bar fett ilia heap, doea go. to be Niin 



aiiil li.ib^ aeued it and rolleil 
o\er on It, and ehuekled. Then 
CliriKiie Haul 'Oh my!" agjiiii, 
tills time at baby, and added. 
•" Ymi will noraleh yourself mi 
thai needle," and Hlnoped and 
gathered up her work The 
mother \^ent on wilh her wonder- 
ful story 

'"We've liceii thinking about it 
for a ){ood while, your father and 
I, hut it waHoiilv hiNi iiiKht that 



Then did Clirittie and Karl look 

nt eiu II olhi'i , ulai a full of 

elirioiH aNtoiiiHliiiHlit Nothing 
Hi'eined to them to move no hIoW 
ly natline It aeemi'd lo CliriBtlS 
tiiiil ChriNlinaN il.iy would n^'VPr 
come, never in the world ' 

Hut It did. And it found the 
Tucker laiiiily up very eai'v in 
the iiio" iiiif. A KeroNi'ii'' lamp 
was biiilii i\{ III I'i'ery riMnii in the 
lower part ol the liiMl«e. by lour 



wu mad" our iniii'l^ up H<|Uarely irrloik l'°or wasii I Ihe siutioii a 
that \.iii»h"iild go, il we could < mile away, and waxiit Chriaiie to 
brill- II ttb lilt, and 1 guess we lake her tirnl ride on llie cars that 
can. I winli il was bo that you niorning / How pretty she look- 
and Kail could go together, but 1 ,.,l |„ |„.|- trim new huii ' New? 
we don't know how to manage [ Wdl, yes, new lo her Who wr.S 
that iiiiw, that'sa Tail ;iii'd t'hiisl- (joing to kimw, unless Nhe told 
mas (l.iy iH ChrislirN birihdiiy, | ihein. that llie brown travelling 
yoii know Karl, aii'l iM.Nides she , dress, sack and all, was made 
IK two yens older than you. ller (r„in an old water-proof I'loak that 

'auni l.i<iniKa had lell th<>re one 
lay 



llllll oiiirlit to come lirst 

" Coiu.'e,"" said Karl sturdily, 
but he Hhaded IiIn fare entirely 
wilh hiH hat, and let the Hies bite 
Nettie in pence lor about a 
inimile. What a tliiiii.' it vonjil 
bo to take a ride on the steam 
ears' No, he hid never been on 
them ill lii.^ life. Neither had 
Chrisiio but then sli" wiio a '.;irl ; 
he wondered if il could bo so 
hard lor girls as for IiOvh. 

'•lint, inolhor," said ChiiHtie 
timidly, "it costs an awi'nl lot of 
monev to tide on the cars." 

" 1 l<now it does Kii,'hty-five 
cents til 10, and eighty-livo cents 
back; that's a dollar and seventy 
cents! It sooins a good deal to 
spend ; but it is your birthday, and 
il is ChriNtnios il .y, and you've 
worked hard, and father and Karl 
and 1 think you ought logo; don't 
we, Karl !" 

•• Yes'm," said Karl, and if his 
voice trembled a little, his mother 
pretended not to no- 
tice it. 

■' Yes, " she said 
cheerily, 'that's what 
we do, and we are 
going to work for it; 
there is a great deal 
to be done between 
now and then ; there's 
some yeast cakes 1 
will want to send to 
your aunt Louisa; and 
some mittens for tho 
baby, and if I can 
bring it about, Vm go- 
ing lo tie a comfort 
lor his little bed ; your 
aunt Louisa said they 
were nice things, the 
last time she was here, 
and your father thinks 
thare will bo a bag of 
choice apples that we 
can put in for them ; 
and I thought maybe 
Karl and you would 
want to gather a few 
nuts for your cousins ; 



leraiise |l reallv was not 
worth boiheriiig lo ifii it into the 
trunk I Aunt Louisa lierself 
would not K.we recoirni/.od it 
luw. It 11.. ' Ue'u tutlied, and 
Npiiiiiri'd and presseil .iliil nit and 
liu<'d and Irimiiieil, with rows 
upon '.'OWN of in.i. 'llllll' niititliing 
ol tho Very nealent sort. How 
many little liii;,'i'rH had helped to 
gel Christie ready for her lirst 
going out into the great woi-ld! 
There was Susan Itritrirs the tai- 
loress. home on a few days' visit 
lo her mother, their next neigh- 
bor, and one evening when she 
ran in to seo tlie I'ucke-"* she h»d 
said: "Why, you wo l tjave 
enough of that for some ol those 
cunning little cut-away jackets 
that they wear so much ! iivi me 
look at it : I do bolievo I could 

f[ot one out. Why, dear mo! it 
las a large cape too ; yes, I know 
I could. Shall I cut it out for yon, 



X 










M0BT 




HKl'UINTED STORIES, FROM THK ' NOllTIIKRN MKSSKN(JK1{. 



n 



MrH Tuckur? Oli, iionsonse ! I 
wuald just as Boon do it, as to sit 
here with my hands folded. 
Hand me the shears, ( 'hristie ! I've 
got my pattern in my pocket ; I 
lent it to Jane Aiine Wh" '.or, audi 
met her coming to bring it home, 
just as I turned the cornor to- 
night. Wasn't that foriniiato ? 
I'll tell you v'hai it is, Christie 
Tucker, we'll have a nice little 
cut-away jackot for you before 
you knov? it. What are you go- 
ing to trim the dress with?" 

" Oh dear me ! " said Mrs. 
Tucker, "don't talk to us about 
trimming; it has been just as 
much as we could do to pucker 
the necessary things foifcther to 
make the dress. You see, Susan, 
a journey makes so much ex- 
penses ; she had to have a new 
pair of gloves, and a pair of shoes, 
and altogether it counts up; she 
will have to go without trim- 
ming." 

Then did Susan sit in quiet, her 
busy shears snipping the cloth 
most skilfully, her busy brain 
considering the while ; at last she 
spoke her thoughts. 

" I'll tell you what it is, Mrs. 
Tucker, thin goods would look 
beautifully stitched on the ma- 
chine ; suppose we change works ! 
if you will do some buttonholes 
for me, I'll take this home and 
give it throe rows on mother's ma- 
chine ; you do make buttonholes 
clegaiktly, and I'd rather stitch, 
any day, than to make them." 

And the gratified mother who 
would not tiave accepted charity 
to get trimming for her daughter, 
was nevertheless willing to get it 
by changing work ; so the three 
rows of stitching were added, and 
very prettythey looked. Then,one 
evening, came Mr8.Briggs,Su8an'8 
mother, to sit awhile with her 
knitting, and tucked away in her 
pocket was a pretty little ruffle of 
finest cambric, hemmed with the 
smallest of stitches, gathered in 
infinitesimal puckers, and care- 
fully fluted by Mrs. Briggs' own 
skilful hands. 

"There!" she B<\id, bringing it 
out, " I was making ruffles for my 
girls, and there was a little speck 
over — I promised them three 
Hpiece, you know, and this was 
left over — and, thinks I to myself, 
that will just make Christie a 
ruflle to wear when she goes her 
first journey ; so I made it for a 
little Christmas present for you, 
child ; and you must pay me by 
telling me about all the wonder- 
ful things you saw on the way." 

How pretty the little white 
ruffle was ! And how pleased was 
Christie, and how more than 
pleased was her mother. It was 
80 nice for people to lake an in- 
terest in Christie 

At last everything was ready. 
The basket, ol choice apples was 
paclied, the bag of yeast cakes 
was slowed away in the old- 
fiishioued, flowered carpet satchel 
that had gone on journey by 
water, and journey by stage, a 
lung time ago, but bad never in 



its life taken a ride by steam. 
There were other choice things 
in the satchel— mittens and wrist 
warmers, and the cay patch-work 
comfort for the baby's bed; and 
there was another basket for the 
nuts that had been gathered at 
just the right time to be at their 
best. 

" I don't know how yon will 
ever get out of the cars loaded 
down so," father Tucker said, 
looking a little anxious, " But I 
guess the conductor will help 
you ; I'll speak to him about it." 

" And do be careful, Christie," 
said mother Tucker ; " it seems to 
me as though the cars must be 
dangerous things, going so fast. 
I'm most sorry I gave my consent 
to having you go ofi alone ; it is a 
pretty risky thing for a young 
girl like you." 

" O mother," said Karl, "nothing 
will hurt her. I wouldn't be 
afraid to go to New York all 
alone." 

" Yes, I know," said the wise 
little mother, regarding him with 



boy only three or four years older 
than himself, was there with his 
sleigh and pony to see his sister 
otf to school. Karl, after his milk 
can was diijposed of, on the hand 
freight car, had leisuie to watch 
Wells Burton. How he took his 
sister's satchel of booKs, and her 
shawl strap, and walked beside 
her to the steps of the car and 
helped her up, and sprang gayly 
in after her ; then Karl could see 
him through the windows.walking 
down the aisle of the car,sometimes 
turning a seat, then settling the 
books and the shawl strap on 
some shelf or hook that seemed to 
be overhead ; Karl had never 
been near enough to investigate 
how it was fixed, for his strict 
orders were on no account to step 
on the cars. But ho had watched 
Wells Burton all through the fall ; 
ho knew just how to do it, and 
ho was burning with an eager 
desire to do it for Christie. Great, 
then, was his disappointment 
when his father appeared in his 
best boots, atid v> .h his great 
coat and heavy mittens. 

" You will have two passen- 
f. ers, my boy, this morning," he 
said cheerily ; "oh, yes, I'm going. 
I couldn't let my girl start out in 
world alone." 

"Now, do be careful," said 
mother, following her treasure 
out of the door, and down the 
snowy path to the great wood 
sleigh, where the can of milk 
wos already tucked in among 
bags and blankets; "don't open 
the window to look at anything, 
and mind you don't put your 
head out ; I've heard 
that it is dangerous ; 
and remember all I 
told you to tell 
Louisa iind the rest ; 
and mind and wrap 
the big shawl around 
you well, when you 
ride to the station. 
.\iid don't you let 
them coax you to 
stay all night for 
anything in the 
world. I shouldn't 
sleep a wink if you 
did, and I guess may- 
be I'd start on fooc 
to see what was the 
matter." 
TUB BAiiv SAT DOWNONTiiK Between these sen- 
(IRASS AND LAUaiiED. tences, Christie was 




kind motherly eyes ; " but then, 
you are a boy, and buys are ex- 
pected to take care of themselves, 
and look after t'ae girls besides." 

Karl's dark cheeks flushed over 
this, and he answered cheerily, 
" Well, I'll take good care of her ; 
I'll go on the cars and pick her 
out a seat, and settle all her bas- 
kets and bundles. 

If the whole truth were told, 
Karl Tucker looked forward to 
this performance almost as eager- 
ly as Christie did to the journey, 
livery morning he drove to the 
depot and sent a can of milk into 
the city by the early train. And 
every morning Wells Burton, a 



being kissed and 
hugged, until what with the 
bundling up, and the frosty air, 
and a feelitig as though she was 
going away off into a great cold 
world, and might never see any 
of the dear people in the little old 
farmhouse any more, she felt as 
though she should choke, or may- 
be cry ; and that would be almost 
worse ! 

At last they were off! The 
mother came in and held the baby 
up at the window to watch the 
sleigh as it turned the corner,and 
slipped out of sight, and then she 
said: 

" How Mrs. Burton stands it to 
let her little girl go to the city 



every day to school, I don't see! 
Seems to me I should fly away 
with anxiety ; but there is nothing 
like getting used to things Dear 
me ! It doesn't seem right to have 
the child go off on Christmas day ; 
but then it was her birthday, and 
all ; and she'll be back to supper 
and be hungry enough, I'll war- 
rant ; thnre'll be so many dishes, 
and silver, and things at Daniel's, 
that she can't do much eating. 
I'll have stewed chicken, and bis- 
cm s smothered in cream gravy, 
and hot apple sauce, to surprise 
her ; see if I don't ! Come, Nettie 
dear, you're the only little girl 
mother has to help her to-day, 
and we must fly around. What 
should I do if I hadn't Christie to 
help every day, is more than I 
can think.' And, thank the Lord, 
I haven't got it to think. 

But she wiped away the tears 
as she hurried to her work, for 
Christie had never been away 
from home before a whole day in 
her life. What, not even to 
school ? No, not even to school. 

(To be continued.) 

A HORSE THAT COUNTS. 

A certain horse in Sayreville for 
twenty years has been a cart- 
horse in a brick-yard, and the ha- 
bit of going through a certain 
round of duties day after day for 
eight months in the year has en- 
abled him to do things which 
seem to itidicate possession of 
mental faculties similar to some of 
those possessed by the human 
race. It is an old saying among 
the farmers that crows cannot 
count more than three, but this 
horse has the ability to count 
sixty-five. His routine of Ijibor is 
to cart sixty-five loads of clay 
from the pit to the spot where 
the clay is mixed or ground and 
then go for a load of coal dust; and 
now, without atiy thing being said 
or done to indicate the fact to him, 
when he has deposited his sixty- 
fifth load, he turns away from the 
clay pit and goes to the dock for 
a load of dust. This is not the 
only peculiarity, for when he goes 
to the pit, he backs the cart up to 
the right place, atid will take 
only what ho conceives to be his 
proper load. If more is put on, 
he backs and kicks and rattles the 
cart about until the load is re- 
duced to what he considers a pro- 
per quantity. Having such an 
intellectual capacity, it is not sur- 
prising to learn that he will not 
be driven. As soon as the reins 
are touched he becomes fractious 
and uiimana^ -able, but a gentle 
explanation of what is required 
usually has the desired eUect. — 
Children's Friend. 

Good Men have the fewest 
fears. He has but one who fears 
to do wrong. He has a thousand 
who has overcome that one. 

Hk 18 NOT "nly idle who does 
nothing, but ho is idle who might 
be better employed. 



m 



1, I doii't see! 
3uld fly away 
tere is uothing 
things Dear 
i right to hare 
'hristmas day ; 
birthday, and 
tack to supper 
ough, I'M war- 
many dishes, 
gs at Daniel's, 
much eating, 
icken, and bis- 
cream gravy, 
:c, to surprise 
Come, Nettie 
nly little girl 
p her to-day, 
round. What 
In't Christie to 
I more than I 
lank the Lord, 
hink. 

way the tears 
her work, for 
r been away 
I whole day in 
not even to 
iven to school. 

inued.) 

r COUNTS. 

I Sayreville tor 
been a cart- 

d, and the ha- 
igh a certain 
y after day for 
year has en- 
things which 
possession of 
lilar tosorae of 
y the human 
saying among 
crows cannot 
hree, but this 
ility to count 
itinu of Ijibor is 
loads of clay 
le spot where 
•r ground and 
1' coal dust; and 
ling being said 
the fact to him, 
iited hi.s sixty- 
away from the 
.0 the dock for 
his is not the 
• when he goes 
the cart up to 
ind will take 
eivcs to be his 
ore is put on, 
and rattles the 
tie load is re- 
>nBider8 a pro- 
ving such an 
r, it is not sur- 
al he will not 

II as the reins 
omes fractious 
, but a gentle 
it is required 
sired ellect. — 



^e the fewest 
one who fears 
las a thousand 
that one. 

idle who does 
lie who might 



w 



RKPRINTKI) STORIKS. FROM TirK " NORTIIKRN MKSSENC.KR." 



-mm 



H 



CHRISTIE'S CHHISTMAS. 

BT FANST. 

CHAPTER I.-Con/inw'. 

It is time I told you a little 
more about the Tucker family. 
They lived away "out West. " 
That is, if you live in New York, 
or Brooklyn, or Maine, or ISoston, 
or New Haven, or even in Cleve- 
land or Cincinnati, you might call 
it away "out West," for it was 
in Kansas. 




lived an entirely different life 
from the Tuckers. He was Mrs. 
Tucker's youngest brottjer, was a 
merchant, and had one of the 
finest stores in the fine little city, 
and was what the Western peo- 
ple called a rich man. The 
Tuckers saw very little of them, 
for the reason that twenty miles 
in a country where there are no 
railways, are not easily gotten 
over, especially by busy people ; 
and it was not yet quite a year 
since the branch railway 
came within a mile of the 
Tucker's farm. Since then, 
the country around had 
begun to hold up its head. 
A good school had been 
started, a neat little church 
had been built, and to the 
church the Tuckers tramp- 
ed every Sabbath day. But 
the school they had not 
suceeded in getting time 
to attend. 

"By next year," Mr- 
Tucker had said, " we 
must try hard for it." 

He said it again that 
very morning, on the road 
to the depot. 

Chapter II. 



It was very pleasant rid- 
ing to the depot in the 
early light of the win'er 
morning. A ride of any 
KAUi, swi'NH OFF A.M0NO THE BOUGHS. soTt was a treat to Christie. 

There was always so much 
to do in the little home in the 
morning, and when evening was 
closing in, that she conid rarely 
be spared to ride to the station 
with Karl ; so that, really, for the 
third time in her life, did she ex- 
pect to gaze on the cars ! 

" It isn't your first ride after 
the iron horse, by any means," 
her father said to her. " 'lore 
than a thousand miles yon rode, 
and y 'U stood it well, too ; were 
just as gO"d as you could be, and 
gave mother and me no trouble 
at all ; in fact you seemed to be 
anxious to amuse Karl, and help 
him to have a good time. But 
you were such a little dot I don't 
suppose you remember anything 
about it." 

" Why, father," said Karl, " she 
wasn't three years old then! How 
could she remember it?" 

"Well, I don't know ; seems to 
me I remember my mother, and 
I wasn't quite three years old 
when she died ; but then folks 
remember mothers, I s'pose, longer 
than they do anything else. They 
ought to. Well, Christie, my girl, 
keep your eyeo open to-day, and 
, see what you can learn. My 
New England home, had been : father used to tell me— your old 
the best reader and speller in the | grandfather, you know, who died 
whole school, had tanght them in j before you were born— he used 
both these branches very care- 1 to say to me, ' Learn all you can, 
fully And so, though they had John, about anything and every- 
not many books to read, what thine ; there is no telling when a 
they had were very carefully j chance may pop up for you to use 
read, and very well understood, what you thought you never 
Uncle Daniel lived in the hand- would use.' It's a good rule. I 
some city that had sprung up practised on it once when I saw 
twenty miles further east, and he I a man making a waggon ; I 



The Tuckers wont there from 
New England when Karl was a 
baby, and had been working 
away on th'eir bit of a farm ever 
since. A city had grown up 
about twenty miles from them, 
but it had not grown where Mr. 
Tucker thought it would, when 
he bought his little farm, and 
not even a school had come with- 
in five miles of them until lately. 
I am not so very sure that it 
would have done the Tucker 
children muoh good if there had ; 
the truth ' ..s, there was such 
hard work, .nd so much of it, to 
feed all Ih', mouths, and clothe 
the stout little bodies, that both 
Christie and Karl had had to 
work hard all day long. You 
need not suppose that on this ac- 
count they did not know any- 
thing. I fancy they were almost 
as good scholars as some who go 
to school year after year. Mr. 
Tucker had taught them, in the 
long winter evenings, to cipher, 
and had studied geography with 
them on a big old map of the 
United State8,thathe had brought 
with him from New England. 
And Mrs. Tucker, who, in her 



watchad just how he fixed the 
wheel and the holes for the nails, 
and everything, and I said, right 
out loud, ' It isn't any ways likely 
that I shall ever make a waggon, 
but then I might as well know 
how you do it.' And it wasn't a 
week after that we broke down 
going across the prairie, your 
mother and me and two children; 
and if I hadn't known just how 
to fix that wheel we would have 
frozen to death likely enough be- 
fore we could get anywhere." 

"Well," Christie said, laughing 
a little, "I don't suppose 1 shall 
ever make o train of cars, but I'll 
learn how if 1 can." 

" There's no telling," her father 
isaid, 'what will come of one day ; 
'they are curious things, days are; 
!like enough you may see some- 
I thing to-day that will help you 
I along all your life; and for the 
matter of that, yoxi might see 
'plenty of things to hinder you all 
[your life; that's what makes such 
: solemn business of living. Only 
there's one comfort ; you can shut 
your eyes to the evil things, and 
say : I won't remember one of 
them; I'll have nothing to do 
with them. And the good things 
yon can mark and lay away in 
your mind for future use. Well, 
here we are, I declare. Old Sam 
has trotted along pretty fast this 
morning. Now, my man,you may 
help Christie out, and get her 
ticket, and put her on the train 
all right, and I'll stay here and 
take care of Sam." 

Then did Karl's face glow ! 
But he made a pretence of objec- 
tion: "Why, father, I can take 
care of Sam if you want to go." 

" No, no, my boy, I can trust 
yon to look after Christie ; you'll 
have plenty of time ; they've got 
a lot of freight to load this morn- 
ing, and yon can go in and find 
her a seat, and do it all up like a 
man. Sam and I will tend to 

each other out here. 

I'll just set the satchel 
on the steps there, so 
yon can reach it easy, 
and then I'll drive 
around to the shed." 

Good, thoughtful 
father ! Putting quiet- 
ly away his own de- 
sire to see his little gir 
safely launched for her 
first journey; putting 
back with resolute 
hand the vague foarthat 
Karl might not help 
her properly, or might 
not get off the train in 
time, and so harm 
might come to one or 
both of them. Well he 
knew that a vchole 
array of "mights" and 
" might nots" lay all 
along life's journey 
with which to make 
himself miserable, and 
there was nothing for 
it but to seize the 
doubts with resolute 
hand and hold them 
back 80 that thi y need 



not cripple the youii!.^ lives under 
his care. Ho remembered how, 
when Karl climbed the tree and 
swung off in a daring way 
among the slender-looking 
boughs, he had to shut his eyes 
and ask <iod to take care of the 
boy, and keep the father from cry- 
ing out, and so help to make his 
son a coward. He felt a little bit 
like that this morning. Only the 
memory of the apple-tree helped; 
there were no trees now that 
Karl couldn't climb. They 
moved away briskly, that little 
man and woman ; Christie run- 
ning hack once to give father one 
more kiss, and to assure him that 
she woulil certainly be in time for 
the evening train. And once he 
called after her, and ran forward 
to tell her to say to uncle Daniel 
thot he could have a cow in the 
spring, like the one he wanted 
last fall. And then he went back 
to his horse, and the boy and girl 
entered the depot together. Karl 
went forward, business written 
on every line of his manly face as 
he called for and paid for a ticket, 
and stood by protectingly while 
Christie pinned it in the corner of 
her handkerchief into her pocket. 
Then he made a little heap of the 
basket of apples, and the basket 
of nuts, and the flowered satchel 
and the shawl, making business- 
like comments the while. 

" You must have the conductor 
lift off" these baskets for yon, 
Christie ; they always do that for 
folks travelling alone. You don't 
have to give up your ticket, yon 
know ; the conductor makes a little 
hole in it, and then gives it back ; 
he won't take it until you are al- 
most at the city. And Christie, 
mother said I was to remind you 
the last thing, not to get ofi° the 
cars until you saw uncle Daniel, 
and knocked on the window for 
him to come for you ; mother wor- 
ried about your getting off alone." 




WEI.LS BURTON 8POKR TO THE TADY. 



w 



w 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE -NORTHERN MESSENGER." 




THKIiK'S THK TRAIN ! 

"And what," said Christie, 
"should I do if uncle Daniel 
didn't get there in lime, and I 
had to get otF?" She moved 
closely to Karl as she spoke, and 
felt as though thoir ages wore re- 
versod.and she was ton and he was 
twelve, and wished with all her 
timid little heart that he was go- 
ing along to lake care of her. He 
had seen the cars so often. 

"Oh, well," her protector said 
reassuringly, " he will be there, 
of course ; he knows just how 
mother feels. But then if he 
shouldn't, you needn't bo one 
mite atraid;itis just as easy to 
step olf. I shouldn't mind it at all. 
I've seen Wells lUirlon swing 
himself off with his hands iu his 
pockets; he does it Just as easy as 
you step down from the back 
stoop. There he is now ! Look, 
Christie, the boy just turning the 
corner !" 

lie came leisurely down the 
snowy walk, whistling a merry 
tune ; a tall, liandtomo boy, dress- 
ed in a well-iitting suit of Knest 
quality and of city make. He 
nodded his head good-humoredly 
to a man who stood leaning 
against the post, and lilted his cap 
politely to a ludy who was ap- 
proaching from the other end. 

" I wonder what he is going in 
for to-day?" murmured Karl, 
watching him with fascinated 
gaze. " There isn't any school for 
a week; i heard him tell Mr. 
Lewis so yesterday. Du you sup- 
pose he can be going just lor the 
fun of it?" 

There was a touch of awe in 
Karl's voice. It seemed such a 
wondei'I'ul thinij for a boy hut a 



"Oh, no, (hey were not fright- 
ened. I telegraphed of course as 
M soon as I found out how it was. 
I thoughtmamma might be a trifle 
worried. 

" No, ma'am, I walked down 
this morning, it is such a bore to 
be always riding. Since there 
was nobody but myuolf I thonght 
I would have the fun of a walk in 
the snow." 

What wonderful talk was this ! 
KnrI, looking and listening, forgot 
for a moment his own importance 
that morning, and actually gave 
a sigh. To hear a boy so little 
older than himself talk so com- 
posedly about going into town 
and out of town, and spend- 
ing the night alone, and tele- 
graphing, and dismissing the 
handsome sleigh and ponies for 
the fun of a walk, it was almost 
loo much ! He looked over at 
the handsome, well dressed fel- 
low with a strange wjstfulness ; 
and the gray pateho.s on his knees 
looked larger and coarser than 
ever before, and the red tippet 
around his neck seemed almost 
to choke him. What a ditlerence 
there was in their lives,to be sure ! 

"Talk about houses," he said 
to Christie, speaking some of his 
thoughts aloud, " you ought to see 
the inside of their house ! I 
gueos uncle Daniel's is nothing 
to it. Nick 
Barton has 
been there 
with freight; 
been up- 
stairs in 
three or four 
o I their 
rooms, carry, 
ing heavy 
things, you 
know, and 
says it is per- 
fectly splen- 
did, the fur- 
niture and 
everything. 
He was tell- 
ing me about it last night ; he says 
they've got hvo pianos.ortwo great 
big music things in different 
rooms, and Iwoks ! Nick says 
there are books enough to till the 
church, he should think." 

"I'd liki- to see the outside of 
their house," Christie said wist- 
fully " I don't ever expect to see 
the inside. Hut Karl, in the sum- 



ing from wistfniness to piiv. flew |>:ist them! Everything 
" Yes, there is ; he can't walk, i seemed to be afraid of them, and 
only on crutches, and looks pale hurrying to get out of their way. 



lew years older than himself to boiraer, mother said you and 1 would 



possibly ruling around on the 
cars fur the fun of it, as he some- 
times rode a horse to water ! As 
if in explanation of his wonder- 
ment. Wells Burton spoke to the 
lady who had addressed him. 
" No, ma'am, our people are all 



walk over that way and see all 
around it. Do you suppose 
they will be there in the sum- 
mer ?" 

"Of course," said Karl, "they built 
the new house lor the summer. 
They didn't tneati (o stay hero in 



in town; went in yesterday to! the winter at all. Nick told me 
fip<Mid Christinas at my grand- : last night ; h>' says they jtist came 
lather's. 1 was to have none there down to settle it, and see to 
last evening but 1 didn't get my things ; and the sick young man 
j)»p.i'H message in Itino, and so took a fancy to stay ; so they all 
came home as usual and had to stayed 
slay here all night. 

Well, no, not alone, exactly 



Nu'k said he 



i 



The servants are all at home, you 
knov/ ; but it seemed rather 
lonely. 



didn't 
think it would last long, but he 
iriu'^si'il maybe they would stay 
all winter." 

" Is there a sick young man'?" 
Christie's voice was chang- 



and weak ; and when he goes in 
to the city, Nick says some great 
strong man takes him right in his 
arms and lifts him into the cars ; 
and he is twenty years old." 

" Poor young man ! " said 
Christie. 

And she envied the Burton 
familr no more. 

"There's the train I" said Karl, 
his voice full of suppressed ex- 
citement. " Now, Christie, don't 
you touch one of those bundles. 
I'll tend to them all; and, Chris- 
tie," — this in a lower tone — "if 
anything should happen that 
uncle Daniel shouldn't be there, 
and you shouldn't see the con- 
ductor, this boy would help you 
olf if you should just ask him,and 
he could tell you just where to 
go to wait; he knows all about 
the city, you see." 

"Oh," said Christie, shrinking 
back, and clinging to Karl's tip- 
pet, " I couldn't speak to him, 
Karl; I couldn't indeed. I'd 
rather get off alone a great deal ; 
and I'm most sure uncle Daniel 
will be there." 

"So am I. Don't worry I Now 
come !" 

And the great moment had 
arrived. Karl shouldered the 
bundles with 
the air of one 
used to carry- 
ing many 
things, set 
them skill- 
fully on the 
steps of the 
p) a tfo rm, 
then came 
down again 
for Chris- 
tie, piloted 
her safely 
through the 
car, found a 
seat for her, 
d i s covered 
that there was a convenient little 
wire house above the seat where 
shawls and parcels were placed, 
arranged hers for her, and in fact 
did everything that an experi- 
enced traveller could have done 
for her comfort. He had not used 
his eyes for nothing. Hut now a 
brakesman was snouting " All 
iiboard !" and he must leave her 
to herself. He bent down for 
one last word just as Wells Bur- 
ton sauntered iu with the air of 
an old traveller who had lingered 
outside until the latest moment : 

"Remember, Christie, if any- 
thing should happen — which 
there won't, it isn't likely — I 
shouldn't be afraid to ask that 




THEY WEEK REALLY OFF. 



What a queer noise the cars 
made ! And they shook so r As 
though they were angry, Christie 
thought. She and Karl had of- 
ten tried to imagine what riding 
on the cars felt like, but they cer- 
tainly had never succeeded. By 
degrees, as she became accustom- 
ed to the strange motion, our lit- 
tle traveller gained courage to 
look about her. She had a greaiL 
desire to act like other people, 
and in order to do this, it would 
be necessary to find out how 
other people acted. Opposite her 
sat a man with fray hair, and gold 
spectacles, and a very large gold 
watch. I liri.'-tie liked to look at 
him. 

" He is good," she said to her- 
self '• I know ho is. I wonder 
if he's somebody's grandpa going 
homo for Christmas. I suppose 
he doesn't look like my grandpa 
out in New York, but 1 wish he 
did. 1 suppose he is taking his 
grandchildren some nice pre- 
ents ; books, maybe. I wish he 
would come over here and sit, and 
tell me about them." 

This thought made her look di- 
rectly in front of her, to see who 
had the seat which she wanted 
for her old gentleman. It was a 
young man with a pale, dis- 
contented face. He seemed to 
be in a great hurry, for he looked 
at his watch three times during 
the few minutes that Christie 
watched him ; yet when a lady 
who sat in front of him suddenly 
turned and asked hijn to please 
tell her what time it was, he 
started as though he were not 
used to being spoken to, and said : 
" What ? I bog your pardon. 
Oh, the time ! I really do not 
know, but I'll see." And out 
came the watch again. 

How could Christie help gig- 
ling ? It did seem so funny to 
her. She did not mean he should 
hear her, but ho did, for he dart- 
ed at her a quick, annoyed look, 
which, however, softened when 
he saw what a shy, ashamed little 
thing it was. 

Now Christie was not used to 
strangers, and felt almost afraid 
to speak ; but she had been 
brought up to be careful of other 
people's feelings, and she was 
afraid she had hurt this young 
man. She slipped forward on 
her seat and touched his arm. 
Her voice trembled a little : 

•'If you please, sir," she said, 
" I hope you will forgive me for 
laughing. I couldn't help it; it 
seemed so funny to look at such a 
lovely Watch as that without 



boy about things ; ho looks good- ' knowing what it said. But I did 



natured. And, Christie, mind and 
come home to-night, even if you ' 
have to walk." i 

There was a sudden clanging 
of the bell, a final howl from the 
locomotive, a jerk which almost 
threw Christie from her seat, and 
they were really off. How swift- 
ly the trees and barns and fences, manneni. — Swift 



not mean to bo rude. Mother 
would be ashamed of me." 

{To be rinUinned.) 



A Man is known by his com- 
pany, and his company by his 



I 
-^^i% 



^.f^ 



Everything 

of thorn, and 

of their way. 

liso the cars 

hook BO r As 

iiSfry, Christie 

Karl had of- 

what riding 

, but they cer- 

coeeded. By 

imo accustom- 

lotion, our lit- 

L courage to 

10 had a greaik 

other people, 

his, it would 

lid out how 

Opposite hor 

tiair, uiul gold 

■ry larjre gold 

I'll to look at 

a said to her- 
is. I wonder 
nindpa e:oiiig 
s. I suppose 
J my grandpa 
ut 1 wish ho 
is taking his 
e nice pre- 
I wish ho 
•0 and sit, and 

.6 her look di- 
r, to see who 
\ she wanted 
in. It was a 
a pale, dis- 
u seemed to 
for he looked 
times during 
that Christie 
when a lady 
aim suddenly 
Un to please 
it was, he 

were not 

to, and said : 

our pardon. 

ally do not 

And out 

help gig- 

funny to 

■iui he should 

for he dart- 

noyed look, 

ftened when 

hamed little 

not used to 

I most afraid 

had been 

till of other 

d she was 

this young 

forward on 

1 his arm. 

little: 

" she said, 
give me for 
help it; it 
ok at such a 
at without 
But I did 
Mother 
me." 

ed.) 



>y his com- 
iny by his 



«! 



m^m 



UEIMUNTKO STOUIKS. I-'IIO.M 'rill'; •• NOHTHKRN MKSSKNCIKU." 



i 



CHRISTIE'S CHRISTMAS. 

BT 7UIBT. 

CHAPTEK II.— CoiKtniKd. 

If the young man had been be- 
wildered when the lady spoke to 
him, he was too much astonished 
now to say a word. He just 
stared for a minute at the burning 
cheeks, as though he felt like say- 
ing: 

" What in the world can you 
be talking about ?" At last he 
spoke. 

" There is no harm done, my 
little friend. I had already for- 
gotten that you laughed. My 
thoughts were too busy about 
other things, and too sad to pay 
much attention to watches, or to 
think of anything but getting 
over the ground as fast as pos- 
sible.'' 

" Wo go very fast," said Chris- 
tie earnestly. 

She wanted to comfort the 
young man, his voice sounded so 
sad. He smiled faintly. 

"Do you think soV It seems 
to me that we almost creep." 

Christie caught her breath to 
keep from expressing too great 
surprise. It seemed to her that 
they almost flow. 

He saw the astonishment on 
her face, and explained : 

" A hundred miles from here I 
have a very sick friend. If I 
could get to her in time, I think 
I might help her. Do you won- 
der that the train seems to me to 
move very slowly ?" 

"No, Sir;" said Christie, with 
great sympathetic eyes. "If 
mother were sick, I should want 
to fly." 

She sat back after tliat, and the 
young man took a telegram from 
his pocket, and seemed to study 
it. Then he took a newspaper, 
and seemed to others to be read- 
ing it ; but Christie saw that part 
of the time it was upside down. 
She felt very sorry for him, and 
could not help glancing at him 
occasionally with a tender smile 
on her face; especially as he 
smiled back, and seemed to like 
her sympathy. 

Chapter III. 

Christie had other travelling 
companions who interested her 
very much. At the first stopping- 
place a lady with a little fellow 
hardly out of babyhood came and 
took the seat just behind her. 
She had to twist herself around 
to get a view of the baby ns he 
sat in a corner of the seat ; but 
he was so pretty that she could 
hardly keep her oyos away from 
him. He had wonderful large 
blue eyes, and a laughing face, 
and he kept bobbing up and 
down, and making pretty little 
sounds out of his rosebud mouth, 
and once he smiled on her as 
though he hadn't the least objec- 
tion in the world to being better 
acquainted. But Christie ilid not 
dare to go near him. for he was 
beatttifully dressed, and his mam- 
ma looked as though she might 



be very parti- 
cular about his 
friends. So the 
little girl who 
had left a baby 
at home, looked 
the other way 
and trii'd to for- 
get how much 
she wantt'd to 
kiss the baby 
behind her. 

The cars 
were quite full, 
but Christie 
thought that 
most of the peo- 
ple looked as 
though they 
had been 
obliged to get 
up too early, 
and had not 
had a good 
breakfast. 

" They feel 
cross," she said 
to herself, "or 
else they feel afraid. I wonder 
if there is anything to be afraid 
of." 

Thinking which, she looked 
over at Wells Burton, the boy 
who went on the train every 
morning to the city. He surely 
ought to know by this time 
whether there was any cause for 
fear. He had his hands iu his 
pockets, and was looking oat of 
the window and whistling. He 
did not look in the least afraid, 
neither did he look cross. 

What a thing it would be to 




know him, 
have him 
about all 
wonders 
he saw in 



and 
tell 
the 
that 
the 



HARDLY OUT 



city every day ! 
He had been 
to the State 
House, she had 
beard, and 
Kari said the 
stag e-d river 
said that the 
Governor was 
a great friend 
of Mr. Burton, 
and had been 
out to see 
him. 

How much 
Christie would 
like to hear 
something 
about the tJov 
eriior from one 
who had 
actually heard 
him talk. She 
knew quite a good denl concern- 
in;; this Governor. Her father 
admired him very much, and said 
ho was one of the grandest tem- 
perance men in the State. And 
once when he went to the ciij' to 
see about selling his corn, he had 
a story to tell about having seen 
the Governor standing in the door 
of his home, and a fine-looking 
man hor father said he was. 

Christie had a burning desire 
to see a real governor ; or, failing 
|iu that — as of course she expect- 
ed — to hear things about him : 



BABYHOOD. 







ALL 8WUNU TlIKll! ll.\TH A.M) (liKEHED. 



how he acted, and what h" sniu, 
and all those nice pleasant ihings 
which she believed she could tell 
about people if she ever had any 
chances. 

But she must not grumble on 
this morning, of all others in her 
life, she told herself, letting the 
sober look go out of her face, and 
bringing back the happy one. 
Here were plenty of cliances 
What a long story she could toll 
Karl about these people on the 
cars. And there was that baby 
cooing and jumping, and — why, 
yes, the darling was actually 
throwing kissoK at her. 

The train stopped again. It 
was a voryaccommodaling train; it 
si'cmeil tostop every fi'W minutes 
to pick up piissengiTs along the 
road when there was no station 
in sight. Some junction was 
yelled out, but tlie brakesman 
talked in Choctaw, and of course 
Christie did not uiulerstuiid him. 

A gentleman caino in, glanced 
up and down the well-filled car, 
then dropped into the scat beside 
Christie. 

" I suppose you will let me sit 
with you ?" he said, and his 
voice was very plea.saiit, and his 
face was bright with smiles. 
She made hasto to say, " Yes, sir." 
Thon he began to talk vi-ith hor, 
or rather to hor. for Christie said 
very little. He pointed out a log 
cabin as they flew i>ast it, and 
told her the queerest little history 
about its being built there by a 
boy less than sixteen years old, 
for his mother. And how he 
worked day and night, and earn- 
ed money enough to send away 
to Maine for her, and how he 
supported her. And how they 
lived in a nine pleasant house, and 
had cows and horsi's, and the 
mother made butter, and sold it 
at the highest price in market, 
and how she said " It can't help 
but be good butter, I have such a 
dear srood boy." 

Christie listened and exclaimed 
and enjoyed. What a thing to 
tell lather and mother and Karl! 
She lelt that she was piling up 
stories to last all the rest of the 
winter evenings. 

She was very sorry when her 
pleasant friend arose at the very 
Jext station only a mile away, 
and bade her good-niorniug as 
politely as though she had been a 
grown-up liidy. She wished so 
much tliat she knew his name. 
It would be awkward to be al- 
ways calling him " thcgi'iitlcman 
with bright eyes that looked right 
through you. ' That seemed to 
be the only way she could de- 
scribe him. 

She noticed that he stopped at 
Wells Burton's seat and shook 
hands with him. It was quite 
likely that Wells knew who he 
was." 

"Now, if I only knew Wells 
Burton," she told herself, " I 
might ask him ; Imt then I don't, 
and it isn't likelv that I ever 
shall." 

The pretty baby hud gone to 



A 



f.-iH® 




II 



REPRINTKI) STOKIKS, FROM TIIK "NORTHERN MESSKNGER.' 



■leep ; she conid not amusn her- 
■elf with him, and su she turned 
to the window again jnst as they 
were passing a country road 
down which was flying a sleigh 
filled with a merry party, who, 
realizing that the train was beat- 
ing them, all swung their hats 
and cheered them on. That was 
fnn for a little time, and then as 
they whizzed along, she espied a 
comical sight that entertained her 
still more. But as the on-flying 
train left all these interesting 
scenes in the rear, Christie at last 
thought of her father's advice, and 
she began to see if she could 
learn to make a car. 

She twisted her head about,and 
looked up and down and around 
her in so many ways that at last 
the sad-faced younsr man began 
to watch her. She was studying 
the long rope that ran through 
the top of the oar, wondering 
v/hat it was for, when he spoke 
to her. 

"That rope is to be pulled to 
atop the train. If you should 
chance to want it stopped for any 
reason, all you would have to do 
would be to give that a violent 
pull ; but I earnestly hope you 
won't do it, for it seems to me 
that we stop quite often enough." 

" I am sure I won't," Christie 
■aid laughing a little, though 
really she felt somewhat startled 
over the bare idea of her stopping 
a train. 

Not ten minutes after that it 
■topped again. What for ? Nobody 
seemed to know. There was no 
station, not even so much as a 
■bed ; there was nobody to get on 
or oiT; yet there that ridiculous 
train stood, as though it had 
reached the end of its journey 
and did not care how soon the 
passengers hopped out in the 
snow. Then you should have 
heard the people grumble. Chris- 
tie was astonished ; she did not 
know that grown people were 
ever so cross. It made her laugh 
to see the watches bob out, while 
the faces which looked at them 
seemed to grow crosser every 
minute. 

" What in the world are we 
stopping here for?" asked the 
pale-faced young man with such 
anxiety in his face that Christie 
felt very sorry for him. " What 
is the matter, sir?" This ques- 
tion he asked of a gentleman who 
had been on the platform looking 
about him. 

"Don't know sir; can't find 
out. If the ofricials know they 
mean to keep it to themselves. 
Still, 1 guess we are going on 
soon , I saw signs of moving." 

However, tliey did not move. 
The next person who thought it j 
WHS his duty to attend to matters, 
was Wells Uurton. How he hap- 1 
peuod to sit still so long, I'm sure 
I don't know. He sauntered out ' 
and looked about him. Christie | 
turned herself in her seat to get a^ 
view from the door. What a long 
level stretch of road lay behind : 
them! How queerly the track | 



looked ! Two long black snakes 
surrounded on every side by 
snow. She wished she could get 
a nearer view. She had been 
charged not to step off the train, 
and on no account to put her 
head out of the window. But 
what was to hinder her stepping 
down to that closed door, and get- 
ting a nearer view of the snakes? 

She slipped quietly from her 
seat and went It looked fully as 
queer as she thought it would. 
Wells Burton stood on the lower 
step of the car, also gazing about 
him ; not at the track, but at the 
train-men, who seemed to be 
trying to decide whether it was 
worth while to go on. Suddenly 
they concluded that they would. 

The engine gave a snort to ex- 
press its approval of the plan, 
several passengers who had been 
standing on the track jumped 
back again on the car, and came 
in to see about their seats. Then 



ground and (he train was scud- 
ding on. and nobody but she, 
Christie Tucker, knew anything 
about it. She had just once 
thought in her mind — What if it 
were Karl ? She gave one little 
squeal, which the engine swal- 
lowed, so that nobody heard, and 
the next second she did what 
made all the people in the car 
think that the quiet-faced well- 
behaved little girl had suddenly 
gone erazy She gave a quick 
little hop, very much as she had 
done many a time to reach the 
lowest boagh of the apple-tree, 
and caught that rope whose use 
she had just learned, and never 
surely was harder pull given to it 
than her stout little body man- 
aged at that moment. In an in- 
stant the car was full of excite- 
ment. " What — what — what does 
that mean ?" asked the fat man 
who had been the last to enter the 
train. The handsome old gentle- 




8HE aPIGD A COMIOAL SIGHT. 



the wheels began to turn around. 
Still Wells Burton stood on that 
lowest step with his hands in his 
pockets. Christie looked at him, 
and a little shiver ran through 
her while she thought if that 
were Karl she should curely be 
tempted to reach out and pull at 
his coat. How could the boy be 
so foolish ? Why did not his 
mother make him promise not to 
do so ? 

He was cominginnow;andit was 
quite time, for the train was well 
underway. How did it happen? 
Nobody know. Wells Burton 
least of all ; and Christie, who 
stood looking on all the while 
could never give a clear account 
of that part of it. She only knew 
that the boy she was watching 
with such anxiety, turned care- 
lessly on his heel, hands still in 
his pockets, and the next instant 
was lying a dreadful heap on the 



mni) looked at her gravely 
through his gold spectacles, and 
the pale-faced man who had 
taught her about the rope said 
hastily : " Why, my child, you 
ought not to have done that. 
What in the world do you 
want?" 

All this happened, of course, in 
a few seconds ; and before Chris- 
tie could catch her frightened 
breath to explain, in came the 
conductor, looking like a summer 
thunder cloud. " What does all 
this mean ?" he asked grulfly. 
" Who pulled that rope ?" 

Christie took time to be glad 
that the train was actually stop- 
ping, before she explained in a 
quick, frightened voice, " Oh, sir, 
he fell off just as he was stepping 
on the train again, and he lies in 
the road. Do you think it killed 
him ?" 

" Who fell ? What are you 



talking about ?" said the conduc- 
tor, his quick eye roving over the 
car in search of missing passen- 
gers. " AVas it the boy who sat 
in that seat?" But before Chris- 
tie could think of stimmering out 
a " Yes, sir," he had turned from 
her and rushed out of the car, and 
the train which had almost stop- 
ped, began to move slowly 
backward. I'm sure you can 
imagine better than I cair tell you 
how they all acted then. How 
they crowded around that end 
door, and all tried to see out from 
a space that would accommodate 
only two; and there was nothing 
to see ! How they crowded 
arottnd Christie, and asked ques- 
tions! "How did it happei- ?" 
Christie did not know; she was 
still trembling over the thought 
that it had happened. " What 
was he out there for?" Christie 
did not know. In her heart she 
believed it was because he was a 
very foolish boy ; bntthat she did 
not like to say. " Was he hurt 
much?" Christie did not know; 
she wished very much that she 
did. " Is he your brother, my 
child ?' This the handsome-faced 
old gentleman asked her. 

"No sir," said Christie; she 
knew so much, at least. Then 
she told who he was. " Ah, in- 
deed !" the gentleman said. " A 
son of Warren H. Burton," he 
supposed. He had heard of him. 
Then there was a sudden bustle, 
and a scurrying to get out of the 
way,and a turning over of car seats 
to make a bed; for they were bring- 
ing the poor fellow in. Christie 
was relieved to find, as they passed 
her seat, that his eyes were wide 
open, and that though he looked 
very pale, he gazed about him 
like one who was curious to see 
what the people thought of all 
this, and seemed just a little vex- 
ed over their curiosity. 

"Oh, no; he isn't badly hurt," 
the conductor said, as having fix- 
ed the boy into a seat, and made 
him as comfortable as . possible, he 
came down the aisle on his way 
out. " He has a sprained ankle 
that will shut him up for a few 
weeks, and a bruia.) or two; 
nothing serious, I think. How 
he escaped so easily is more than 
I can imagine. I thought of course 
he was killed. It is a bad habit, 
this standing on the car steps; I 
wonder his father doesn't forbid 
it." 

(To be conlinued.) 



Animals show a deal of in- 
stinct in caring for themselves and 
for each other when ill. A dog 
that has lost his appetite eats 
grass known as dog's grass. 
Sheep and cows seek out certain 
herbs, and cats hunt for catnip. 
An animid with rheumatism will 
always keep in the sun as much 
as possible. — CongregalvmaliU. 

Without economy none can be 
rich, and with it few can be poor. 
— Dr. Johnson. 



w 



laid the condao- * 
roving ovi>r the 
missing piissen- 
10 boy who sat 
at before Chris- 
stnmmering out 
lind tnrned from 
nt of the car, and 
had almost stop- 
more slowly 
sure yon can 
an I can tell yon 
ted then. How 
round that end 
I to see out from 
Id accommodate 
ero was nothing 
they crowded 
and asked ques- 
id it happei-?" 
know; she was 
ver the thought 
Dpened. " What 
for?" Christie 
in her heart she 
ecause he was a 
but that she did 
" Was he hurt 
ie did not know ; 
mnch that she 
ur brother, ray 
I handsome-faced 
ked her. 
id Christie; she 
at least. Then 
3 was. " Ah, in- 
eman said. " A 
H. Barton," he 
lad heard of him. 
a sudden bustle, 
to get out of the 
g over of car seats 
they were bring- 
ow in. Christie 
id,a8 they passed 
eyes were wide 
kough he looked 
ikzed about him 
>8 curious to see 
thought of all 
just a little vex- 
iosity. 

in't badly hurt," 
id, as having fix- 
seat, and made 
as possible, he 
sla on his way 
sprained ankle 
m up for a few 
bruis.j or two; 
I think. How 
;ily is more than 
thought of course 
t is a bad habit, 
the car steps; I 
r doesn't forbid 

intinued.) 



\ a deal of in- 
r thcmselvt'sand 
hen ill. A dog 
IS appetite eats 
IS doit's grass, 
seek out certain 
hunt for catnip, 
rheumatism will 
the bUii as much 
gregalinnaliil. 

>my none can be 
few can be poor. 



w 



REPRINTED STORIES. KRO.M THE 

OHEISTIKS CHRISTMAS. 



NOKTIIKRN ME.SSENGER." 



-®H© 



i 



t 



BT PANBT. 
CHAPTER III.— C<mhnu»i. 

"That is just what I wonder," 
thought Christie ; and she ven- 
tured to glance in the direction 
of the tnrned seat. Wells Bur- 
ton was looking right at her.and — 
why ! was it possible that he was 
motioning to her ? Her cheeks 
began to grow pink. What if she 
should walk over there to him, 
and he should stare at her 
and say, " What do you want, little 
girl ?" and it should turn 
out that he had not 
thought of such a thing 
as motioning to her. If 
anything of this kind 
should liappen, Christie 
felt that she must certain- 
ly sink through the floor. 
Bat he kept looking at 
her, and she felt almost 
sure that he was nodding 
his head at her. Poor 
Christie ! It had not be- 
gun to take so much 
courage to pull that bell 
rope, as it did to think of 
walking down the aisle 
and stopping to see if 
that boy possibly wanted 
her. In fact, she had 
palled the bell without 
thinking about it at all ; 
but this was difl'erent ; 
and her cheeks began to 
grow very hot, and she 
wondered whether 
mother would be ashamed 
of her for going, or for 
not going. What would 
all the passengers think 
of her for marching down 
there to talk to a boy 
whom she had told them 
she never spoke to in her 
life? "I won't go," she 
told herself; " not a step. 
Why should he be motion- 
ing to me i Of course he 
isn't." 

And having settled this 
to her satisfaction, what 
did Christie do in the 
course of the next two 
minutes, but walk meekly 
down that aisle, and stand 
before the turned seats. 

" I thought you motion- 
ed to me," she said gent- 
ly. " Is there anything I 
can do to help you ?" 

" I should say you had 
done considerable in that 
line already," he an- 
swered heartily. "How 
came you to think of any- 
thing so sensible as stop- 
ping the train ? Most any cirl I 
know would have yelled like a 
screech-owl, and danced up and 
down a few times, and then 
finished up by fainting dead away, 
before anybody had found out 
what was the matter. How came 
yon to act so differently from the 
usual style?" 

" I didn't know that was the 
way to do," Christie said, a little 
glimmer of a laugh in her gray 
eyes. " Are you much hart ? ' ' 



" Not to very. My ankle is 
sprained, they sav, and I feel 
somewhat as though I was a hun- 
dred and fifty years old, and had 
enjoyed the rheumatism for about 
half a century. Sit down here 
and let us talk about it." So 
Christie sat down on the extreme 
edge of the farther seal. 

" I wish I could do something 
to help the pain," she said. " If 
your ankle is broken, it ought to 
be set, and I almost think that 
the man who sits in the seat right 
before mine is a doclo.'." 



"Well, I'll tell you what I 
think . I think it was about as 
plucky a thing to do as I ever 
heard of in my life. Halloo, we 
are stopping again ! This train 
has got so usecl to stopping that 
it can't go more than a mile with- 
out trying it. Can this be the 
junction? Just take a lookout, 
will you, and report ?" 

" There are four rows of tracks 
instead of two," said Christie, 
" and they go criss-cross." 

"Then it is the switch!" Wells 
exclaimed, and there was such a 




ife u ^«l»€ jo -mar ri ^ of>, 

^C'jiowi'np' 






" The ankle will keep until we 
get to the city. We are half-way 
there by this time, though wo 
seem to have plenty of hinderances 
this morning. I say, how many 
trains of cars have you stopped in 
your life?" 

" I never did such a thing be- 
fore," Christie said, her eyes 
dancing now, "and I had just 
promised that I wouldn't stop this 
one ; but you see there wasn't 
anything else to do." 



peculiar sound to hit voice, tha* 
Christie turned from the window 
to look at him. 

"The switch!" she repeated, 
" what does that mean ?" 

" It means that the express 
train passes ua here, and that just 
about now she is rushing over 
those rails where I lay a few min- 
utes ago. Here she comes !" 

Chapter IV. 
A roar of machinery, • succes- 



sion of diiszymg flashes past the 
window, then sudden relief from 
the deafening noise, and the ex- 
press train had gone on its way. 
Christie looked at Wells Bar- 
ton. His face was very grave, 
and she thought it a trifle paler 
than before. 

" Did you know that? he ask- 
ed, nodding his head in the direc- 
tion of the departed train. 
" Did I know what ?'' 
" That the express train was al- 
most due, and would come thun- 
dering over me so soon?" 

Christie shivered. "I 
did not know anything 
about the express train," 
she said. 

" Well, you could not 
have done any quicker 
work if you had known. 
It is queer I didn't think 
of it. I thought of al- 
most everything else 
while I lay there ; it was 
the queerest thing that 
ever happened to me. I 
can't think how it hap- 
pened. I've stood on 
that very step filty times 
this winter, and never 
thouirht of such a thing 
as slipping. I suppose 
there was ice on my 
boots. Nice-looking boot, 
isn't it?" he said, glanc- 
ing down at it. "The 
conductor made short 
work of getting it otI,with 
that sharp knife of his. 
Look here, I don't know 
why I keep talking about 
boots and things, instead 
of trying to thank you, 
and show my gratitude in 
some way. Boys don't 
know how to do that sort 
of thing, anyhow You 
ought to see my mamma, 
or, she ought to see you. 
Mothers know how to 
say what they feel." 

" I don't want to be 
thanked," said Christie, 
her cheeks flushing, " I 
didn't do anything." 

" No, only saved my 
life, and showed more 
pluck and common sense 
and quick wit than any 
fourteen girls put to- 
gether ever had before. 
You see, if you had wast- 
ed twenty-five seconds, 
this train couldn't have 
run back to pick me up, 
without running into the 
express ; and I should 
just have had to lie there 
and be crushed. I 
couldn't move, any more than if 
I had been dead ; in fact, \^ 
was dead when they picked 
me up ; fainted, you know. 
But before 1 fainted, I knew just 
what had happened, and where I 
was, and what was likely to hap- 
pen next. I didn't think of this 
express that has just rushed by, 
but I thought of the up-train,due 
in half an hour, and I knew there 
wasn't a house nor a shed within 
a mile. Did you ever come to a 



i 



^4® 



m^- 



m 






li- 



UKl'KINTKI) STORII'N. l-'ltOM THK •' \(H!TIIKI<N MKSSKNCKR. " 



<&> 



plaee where yen thought yon 
conld ice protty plainly thnt \on 
were not goin^r to live but a lew 
minutes more?" 

"Once I was very sick indeed," 
Chrislio said, "and the doctor 

fave me up, and mother Ihoufi^ht 
was dying; and they told mc 
that I couldn't live but a few 
minutes." 

" And what did yon do ?" 

The blood rolled in waves over 
Christie's face and nock. It was 
rather hard to talk to a strange 
boy who mii^ht laugh at her, 
about one ot the most 
solemn experimces other 
life. She was not used 
to talking with boys, only 
Karl, and hn never asked 
such straiirht-out ques- 
tions about thin^, and 
waited for answers. 
Somethin!» must bi> said; 
and what should Ix) said 
but the truth? Was she 
ashamed of it ? Christie 
wondered. 

She dropped hor fray 
eyes, and her Vdne was 
low but clear as bhu said : 
"I prayed." 

There was no sound of 
a laugh or a sneer in an- 
swer. " Yon," he said, 
nodding hia head ns 
though ho understood, 
"so did I. 1 wonder if 
they all do when they get 
into downright trouble? 
I have heard that people 
did ; had men, you know, 
and ail sorts of people. It 
seems sort of mean, nn'I — 
well, I don't BuppoRo 
girls use sueli words, but 
what we boys would call 
sneaking. Don't you 
think so?" 

But ChristiL-, in her 
coniusion, did not under- 
stand 111 in. Did he mean 
that hoys would call it 
"sneaking" to pray? 
"What is?" 

" Why, living alon!» all 
your life without thinking 
of such a thing as pray- 
ing ; until just when you 
get into trouble, and then 
praying with all your 
might, and getting helped 
out, and going on Just the 
same as you did before." 

" Oh," said Christie, re- 
lieved, " why, yes, I think 
that would be mean ; but 
then real honest people 
don't do it." 

"They don't? What 
do they dothen? Weren't 
■youlionest ?" 

" Yes," said Christie gravely, "I 
was, but I didn't go on just as 1 
did before ; everything was just 
as different as could be." 

"What do you mean? What 
was different?" 

" Why, I myself. I didn't feel 
the same, nor do the same. I 
don't think I can explain what I 
mean." 

" Didn't you pray to get well ?" 

" A little ; and 1 prayed to be 



made ready to die if I was to die, 
and to^not to be afraid, you 
know." 

"Well?" 

" And pretty soon the feeling 
afraid all went away, and 1 didn't 
think it made much difference 
whether I got well or not ; and 
for days and days nobody thought 
I would." 

"But you did get well ?" 

" Oh, yes, I did, of course, or 
else I should not be here now." 

And at this point Christie could 
not help giving a little lauj^h. 



so of coarse things were difl'ur- 
ent." 

"You got it!" 

" Why, yes. All in a minute 
everything seemed changed. I 
(MUi't tell yon how; bnt then 1 
know it was so." 

" When was that?" 

" That I was sick ? It was a 
year ago last December, just a 
little bit before Christmas," 

" And the difference lasts?" 

" Oh, yes ; it lasts," said Chris- 
tie, with a curious little smile. 
" Every day when I'm working 





wonld come along that lonesome 
road on Christmas day in time to 
save mo, mul I meant to be hon- 
est; but I didn't think of such a 
thing as it's lasting if I got out of 
the scrape." 
Chrislio looked puzzled. 
" How could it last to take yon 
to Heaven, if it wouldn't last any 
when you were not to go to 
Heaven yet ?" she asked. 

And then Wells llurton laughed, 
though the pain in his ankle im- 
mediately made heavy wrinkles 
come back into his face. 

" It looks like playing ,i 
very poor game, I'll 
own," ho said ; "but 1 
thought I meant it." 

"But if you really did 
mean it, you gave your- 
self away to Ilim, and, if 
you are honest, how can 
you take yourself back ? " 
To this ho made no an- 
swer for sever.il iseconds, 
and, indeed, wliat he said 
next can hardly bo called 
an answer : 

" Then you are a Chris- 
tian ! " 

The red came back in 
swift waves to i hrislie'.s 
cheeks. She had been 
so interested as to hardly 
remember that the talk 
was partly about herself; 
but this plain question 
which was also an ex- 
claiiialion, brouifht back 
her embarrassment. 

" f think I am," she 
sai<l ho.silatiimly.and then 
asliamed of sucii witness- 
ing, added boldly ; " Yes, 
I know I am." 

" And I know that 1 
am not," he said, with a 
littlo laugh. 

(To he continued.) 



kopi Iruttia — 
i^e;; ego, o)> y*v 

CKarlle eKclalTnsf"Now Meve'f a oof 
i'Mcl Jeot- tittle iel/cfo^J^oJiloJil 



WHY WE 
CAT • 



CALL THE 

PUSS." 



Wells did not laugh at all. He 
looked grave and perplexed. 

"That is just what I said," he 
repeated. " You prayed to bo 
gotten out of trouble, and you got 
out, and then things went on as 
before." 

" But things didn't go on sis be- 
fore," persisted Christie. "I asked 
not to bo afraid to die ; to have a 
heart given to me that could trust 
Jesus anyhow, whether he wanted ; see any other 
me to live or die. And I got it ; seem probable 



it all comes back, yon know, in a 
quick littlo think." 

She began to think that this 
was the strangest boy to talk she 
had ever heard of He was even 
stranger than some of the boys in 
story books. 

" Well, " he said, after .■\ few 

moments of silence, " I prayed to 

be made ready to die too ; for 

when this train rattled off! didn't 

way. It didn't 

that anybody 



Did you ever think why 
we call the cat " puss?" 
A great many years ago, 
the people of Egypt wor- 
shipped the cat. They 
thought the cat was like 
the moon, because she was 
more active at night, and 
because her eyes change, 
just as the moon changes, 
which is sometimes lull, 
and sometimes only a 
bright little crescent, or 
half moon as wo say. Did 
you ever notice pussy's 
eyes, to see how they 
change ? So these people made 
an idol with a cat's head, and 
named it Pasht, tho .same nam ; 
they give to the moon ; lor the 
word means the face of tho moon. 
That word has been changed to 
pas or puss, the name which al- 
most every one gives to tho cat. 
Puss and pussy cat are pet names 
for kitty everywhere But few 
know that it was given to 
her thousands of years ago. — 
Horper'i Young Pno/ile. 



11 



(p«^ 



H that lonosonin 
s (liiy in tiiim to 
i"aiU to l)i> hon- 
think »l' Htioh it 
ig if I gut out of 

pn/.zlod. 
last to take you 
v'ouUlu'l last uny 
not to go to 
I! asked. 

Burton lauirhod, 
in his iinkli^ im- 
hi-avy wrinkK's 
is lace. 

ksliku playiii<r a 
)or gamo, I'll 
! said ; " hut 1 
; meant it." 
if you really did 
you Rave your- 
f to Iliin, and, if 
honost, how can 
yourself back 7" 
I he made no an- 
several secon<l!i, 
ed, wiiat he said 
hardly be called 
r : 
you are a Chris- 

'd came hack in 

ives to I hristie's 

She had been 

ited as to hardly 

ir tlint the talk 

ly about herself ; 

plain que.stiou 

I'as also an ex- 

1, brouLjht back 

.rrassment. 

ink 1 am," she 

atini;ly,and then 

of such wilness- 

d boldly : " Yes, 

am." 

I know that 1 
he said, with a 
h. 

le continued.) 






E CALL THE 

'PUSS." 

LI ever think why 
;he cat " puss?" 
nnany years ago, 
of Egypt wor- 
the cat. They 
the cat was like 
because she was 
ve at night, and 
ler eyes change, 
moon changes, 
sometimes lull, 
etimes only a 
tie crescent, or 
as we say. Did 
notice pussy's 
see how they 
!So people made 
cat's head, and 
the .same namj 
moon ; for the 
"ace of the moon. 
»oen changed to 
name which al- 
;ivHS to the cat. 
at are pot names 
hers But few 
was given to 
if years ago. — 
V'o/)/e. 



RKl'RINTED STOUIKS. FROM THK "NORTHERN MKSSKNCJKR." 



■r? 



m^ 



II n 



OHBISTIE^ CHRISTMAS. 
■T njm. 

CHAPTER IT.-Conliniud. 

After a few minutes of ailence, 
during which Ohriatie was won- 
dering whether the proper thing 
to do now would be to go back 
to her seat, he spoke again . 

" Isn't it time we were intro- 
duced? I know you very well 
indeed. Ton are Christie Tucker, 
aren't you ? And the boy whom 
I meet at the depot almost every 
morning, who will not look at me 
nor give me a chance to speak to 
him, is your brother Karl. I 
asked the stage-driver all about 
him. What is the use in his not 
speaking to me ?" 

"He is only ten," said Christie 
in apology. 

" And I am only fourteen, or 
half-way between that and fifteen. 
What difference does four or live 
vears make? When I get to be 
forty it won't hinder our being 
good friends because he is only 
thirty-five or so. There are not 
so many people to be friendly 
with up there where we live that 
we can aiTord to waste any of 
them. I looked over at your 
class that day I stayed to Sunday- 
school, and thought you were 
having a nice time." 

" We were," said Christie with 
animation. " Mr. Keith is splen- 
did." 

Wells made a gesture of dis- 
agreement. 

"I don't like ministers as a 
rule," he said; "they ulw.iv- 
pitch into a fellow so." 

" I don't know what that is,' 
said Christie simply ; " but every 
one likes Mr. Keith— that is, every 
one but bad men ; of course they 
don't like him because he mnke.s 
them remember that they are bad. 
and they want to forget it." 

" Do yon suppose that is the 
reason why I don't like him?" 
Wells asked with a comical little 
look. And then, his face growing 
grave, ''I'll tell you a queer thing, 
though. Back there, while I lay 
across those rails and thought I 
was done with things, I didn't 
even think of mamma in the sense 
that I wanted her there that 
minute, the only one that 1 
thought of was this Mr. Keith. I 
wished for him, not to pull me off 
of the track, you know, which 
would have been ihc reasonable 
thing to do if he had been there, 
but to pray for me ; and I never 
saw him but twice in my life. I'll 
tell you what made me think of 
that though. Do you remember 
a^unday when they thought that 
Olin boy was going to die ? \\'ell, 
I was in church that Sunday, and 
Mr. Keith prated for him ; and I 
thought then if I were going to 
die I should like to have Mr. 
Keith pray for me. Aren't we go- 
ing most uncommonly slow ? By 
the way my foot twinges I should 
say we had been about seventeen 
hours BO far reaching the city, and 
we most be twelve or fourteen 



miles away yet I declare, if we 
are not stopping again ! What 
for, I'd like to know? There ic 
no statiop. here." 

What for, indeed ? That ques- 
tion seemed to be on the faces of 
all the passengers. Christie 
looked out of the window , so did 
everybody else except Wells Bur. 
ton who could not lift himself up 
to do so. 

"Where is it?" he asked. 

" It is nowhere," answered 
Christie with a little laugh " We 
seem to be just in the road. There 
isn't a house to be seen, and there 
is snow everywhere where there 
isn't mud. No, I don't think 
there is any station ; at least, I 
don't see any depot." 

" I know there isn't a station 
nor a depot," said Wells confi- 
dently, " unless it has been built 
since last night." 

"What's the matter, sir T' This 
last to a man who had been out 
to hear the news. 

" Track washed away," said the 
man using aa few words as pos- 



J'm afraid I shall wish for a sur- 
geon to cut off mj foot." 

" Does it pain yon very much ?" 
asked Christie, sympathetically. 

" Well, I've had things that' felt 
pleasanter. These heavy rains 
an'l then the thaw have played 
the mischief with the railway 
track ; father said he was afraid 
there would be trouble. But I 
just wish they had waited until 
after Christmas. I'm afraid yon 
and I will be late to our Christmas 
dinner." 

" I'm sorry for that poor man," 
said Christie, twisting herself to 
get a glimpse of the sad-faced 
young man who had his watch in 
his hand at this moment. " There 
is a sick friend whom he thinks 
he could help if he could only set 
there in time; see how troubled 
he looks." 

"Poor fellow!" said Wells 
sympathetically. 

But the next moment Christie's 
attention was turned elsewhere. 
She turned herself completely 
around and gazed up and .down 




liOOKBD OVER 



tible. and looking gloomy. 

" Washed away ! Why, how 
much of it?" 

" More than I know ; some say 
half a mile, and some say five 
miles ; enough of it to keep us 
standing here longer than we 
want to, I guess." 

" Where is ' here ?' Are we 
near the station?" 

" No, twc^miles out." 

" And is it right here that the 
track has washed away ?" 

" No, half a mile or so up the 
track ; they sent signals down to 
us." 

"Thank you sir," said Wells, 
and the man moved on. 

" Here's a go !" the boy said 
gravely. " Or no, it isn't, it's a 
standstill ; and that's slang, I sup- 
pose. My mother hates slang, 
and so does yours, I presume; 
mothers all do ; I beg your pardon 
for using it ; hut I do wonder 
how long we are to be stopped 
here ! If it is going to be long. 



YOUR CLASS. 



the car ; finally she stood np on 
tiptoe for a moment. 

"What's the trouble?" asked 
Wells. " Lost something ?" 

But by way of answer she 
turned toward him, her face full 
of anxiety, and asked : " Where 
is that baby's mother?" 

" What baby ? The lady with 
a baby who got off at the last sta- 
tion." 

" Why, no, she didn't ; I see the 
baby as plain as can be, lying on 
the little bed she made for him; 
he is fast asleep, but I don't see 
her anywhere." 

" I tell yon she got off,'.' said 
Wells, growing earnest. " I hap- 
pened to be looking right at her ; 
I noticed her particularly because 
she had a shawl like mamma's, 
and I wondered if she looked like 
mamma, and I stared at her a 
good deal to find out. Oh, yes, 
she stepped off the cars and 
stepped into a mad puddle and 
got her feet wet, and looked cross. 



I raised myself up to see her do 
it and hurt my foot by the means, 
and then I looked cross." 

"Then," said Christie, her face 
full of anxiety, not to say terror, 
" then she has left her baby !" 

Unlikely as it sounds, this ap- 
peared to be the case. In the 
course ofa few minutes somebody 
else began to be interested in the 
same thought ; that was no other 
person than the baby himself; he 
began to rub his eyes, and yawn, 
ana twist about on his narrow 
bed in a very dangerous way. At 
last he was only held on by the 
cane of a gentleman who built a 
fe'nce before baby by holding up 
the cane, then he looked aoout 
him in a savage manner, and 
asked, "Where is this child's 
mother?" 

Where indeed ! That was just 
what baby wanted to know, and 
he began to give warning little 
whimpers which said : "I'll cry 
in away to astonish you, if some- 
body doesn't come and attend to 
me very soon." 

What was to be done? Chris- 
tie looked about her very much 
startled, and discovered that there 
I was but one lady in the car; she 
was young and pretty, dressed 
in velvet, and looked as though 
she thought babies were a mistake 
and a nuisance. 

"Madam," said the man with 
the cane.glowering at her, "do you 
know anything about the child's 
mother ?" 

"How should I?" answered 
the velvet-dressed lady, and she 
immediately went back to her 
" Seaside Library"' book. 

Then the baby gave a warning 
yell. Christie started up. " That 
baby is afraid," she said to Wells. 
"The next thing he will cry so 
hard that nobody can stop him ; 
I'm going over there." 

"Do you know him ?" asked 
Wells, looking at the baby as 
though he would much rather 
un'dertake to pacify a cross dog. 

"Oh, no; I don't know who he 
is at all ; but he begins to cry as 
though he was afraid, and if it 
was our baby at home, I don't 
know what I should do." 

With this rather mixed up sen- 
tence she hurried away, and in 
another moment was bending 
over the baby who had not fully 
decided whether to be angry or 
grieved over the strange treat- 
ment he was receiving. He had 
his lips in a dreadful pucker, and 
the squeal he was prepared to 
give, would, I think, have aston- 
ished all the people, but he 
changed his mind when he saw 
Christie, and gave her an aston- 
ished stare, and made no objection 
when she raised him with cooing 
words, and cuddled his face to 
hers. 

"Is he your brother?" in- 
quired the gentleman with the 
cane. " You shouldn't leave him 
alone in thafrway ; it is very care- 
less ; he might have rolled off and 
knocked his brains out. oa 

" Oh, no, sir," said Christie, who S 

^4® 



r 



19 



10 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN 



hj this time could not help tmiU the can," replied that gentleman 



ing to think how man^ people 
■he waa expected to claim aa re- 
lativaa. "I don't know who he 
ia, poor baby ! and I oaii't think 
what haa become of hia mother " 
Then ahe kiaaed him. 

OHAPTKa V 

That ia just what baby did not 
know and in apite oT the kiis, he 
made np hia mind to cry It waa 
very diatreasing Christie walked 
up and down in the bit of a space, 
and cuddled the poor follow, and 
whispered loving words to him, 
and cooed a lullaby into his ear, 
but he would have none oi them ; 
he wanted just one thing, and 
that was his mother's face 

The gentlemen began to inter- 
est themselves in the matter, 
though the velvet-dressed young 
lady waa still deep in her "Sea- 
side Library," only lakinn time to 
dart a frown at baby for Deingso 
noisy. Une and another asked 
who had been with the child, and 
what bad become of her, and 
Wella told his story about seeing 
her leave the car at the laat 
atalion. 

" A case of desertion, said one 
man, looking aeverely at Christie, 
as though she might be the 
cause ; but she looked back at him 
out of very cross eyes, and •"as 
glad that tliu did. The idea of 
any mother deserting her baby ' 

Presently came the conductor, 
and two or three people tried to 
talk to him at once. 

" I noticed the lady leave the 
car," he said. " She asked me 
how much time there would be , 
ahe has got herself left, I presume 
women are always doing it , she 
atayed to tie her bonnet in another 
kind of a knot, or something 
equally important, and she is pro- 
bably fuming away at the station 
at this moment, calling the cara 
all sorts of names, as Ihongb th^y 
were to blame for her silliness ' 

" And when can ahe get the 
baby, sir?" 

It was Christie's eager, aorrow- 
ful voice that asked the question ; 
ahe knew now which ahe pitied 
the most, and that was baby'a 
mother. 

The conductor turned and 
looked at her. " More than I 
know," ha said ahortly. " Do you 
belong to her? Are you the 
child's nurse ?" 

" Oh no, sir," said Christie, and 
this time ahe had much ado to 
keep from smiling outright. '* I 
never saw him before ; ' but she 
cuddled him to her as she spoke, 
and he put one fat arm around 
her neck, and gazed about him 

''Well," said the conductor, 
" hi- seems to take to you, and 
that is fortunate; there's no toll- 
ing when wo will get out of this ; 
it is a bad mess " 

Then up spoke Wells Burton. 
' But conductor, the lady can get 
back to her baby, uin't she, on 
the nine o'clock accommodation?" 

" When the nine o'clock accom- 
modation comes along, I dure say 



in a very aignifioant tone ; " but 
there's no telling when that will 
be." 

" Why ? Oan't it come up be- 
fore we leave here ? Will it have 
to wait at the last atation until we 
goon?" 

Two gentlemen aaked these 
two questions, and Christie wait- 
ed eagerly for their anawer, while 
baby, the most interested party, 
gave all hia attention to the blue 
ribbon on her hair, and tried to 
poke it in hia mouth and mm it ; 
ungrateful fellow that ho waa ! 

" If it doesn't have to wait any 




there ian't any particular danger 
of our being run over from either 
direction, so far as I can see." 

" And when can we hope to get 
on?" 

It was the pale-faced young 
man, with his watch in his hand, 
who asked this Question. Chris- 
tie thought his faco grew paler 
yet aa he listened to the answer, 

"Well, sir, that 'a telling, per- 
hapa in half an hour, perhaps not 
under two hours . we don't really 
know the extent of damage yet ; 
' our men have gone forward to 
I discover, and they will send 
workmen from the city aa soon 



longer than until we go on, it may aa they can ; but everything ia 
be thankful," said the conductor, out of gear this morning ; there 
" The rumor is that the bridge haa been trouble iu all directions, 



CHILD OF A KING, 

"Lrt ikt ckiUrtm ^ Zt0m fc>j/a/ tm UUir kimg."—T%. 144 1 •, 
HA-mi t, ButLL. an. Ri*. John R. Suhmaium. 



^*E3 



^^^^^^m 




cu. 



1 Mt TathBrt own Son, who mitoo m from un. 

On w wandered on urth M tbo pooraat of men i 

But now Ho !• reigning forerer on high. 

And wlU giro ma a homa with Himaell hy^naBJ. 

S I onoo waa an ontcaat atraneer on earth, 

A ainner bj choico. an " alian" by birth ; 

But Ito been " adopted," mj name'a wnttaB flow*. 

An heir to a manaion, a robo and a oiowa. 0»». 

4 A tent or a eottage. why ahould I 0M«1 

Thoy're building a palace for me over than; 

Though exiled from homo, yet my heart atlll may aingi 

All gPory to Qod, I'm tha ahUd of • King. Oha. 

ami^M, iMi. *T "W^ a "•• 

• Fim Qua OUB lioaawa, by poralaaloa tt Bmlaw * Ham.* 



went down just after we crossed 
it; if that is so, we don't know 
when another train will get 
over." 

Then you should have heard 
the exclamations of dismay. 

" Wiiat ! the h'^h bri<lge ! Went 
down, did you say ? Why, it isn't 
twenty minutes since we passed 
over ! I thought you moved over 
very slowly — as if things were 
shaky." 

" Can't you get a telegram, con- 
ductor, and learn the truth of the 
report ?" 

"Not very well, air, while we 
lie here. If we ever reach 
another station, we shall have a 
telegram, I presume; meantime 



and the railway hands can't be 
everywhere at once ; there's no 
telling what the dele^ will be ; ol 
course we hope we can hurry 
things np." 

(7b be contiHusd.) 



I 



MONKEY POCKETS, 
suppose you did not know 



that monkeys had any pockets, 
save those in the little green coats 
organ-men compel them to wear. 
But that is a mistake ; their real 
pockets are in their cheeks. The 
other evening, coming back from 
the sea by train, I travelled in the 
next compartment to a little be- 
coated monkey and his master. 



«H 

MESSENGER." 

"The little creature's day's work 
waa over, and, perched up on tha 
■ill of the carriage window, he 
produced his supper from those 
■tow-away pockets of his, and 
commenced to munch it with 
great enjoyment. Several times 
the platform hnd to be cleared of 
the girla and boya who had come 
to aee the little frit>nd, who had 
beenamuaing them all day, off on 
his journey. At length a porter, 
whose heart evidently was warm 
toward little folks, allowed them 
to slip in and remain. 

All the otEcials felt the attrac- 
tion of that window , and the 
stoker.with smiles upon his grimy 
lace, openly addressed the little 
monkoy as "mate." Even the 
slation-mastei as he paased, I 
noticed, cast a sly glance toward 
the monkey, although he could 
not, of course, be seen to join tha 
crowd of admirers. A cheer was 
raised when the train was sot in 
motion, and the monkey glided 
slowly away from big and little 
spectators. 

I heard the other day of a pet 
monkey called Hag, a creature no 
larger than a guinea-pig whoae 
master once found in bis cheek 
pockets a stool thimble, his own 
gold ring, a pair of sloevo-links, a 
farthing, a button, » shilling and 
a bit of candy Monkeys, 1 am 
sorry to say, are given to stealing, 
and they use these pockets to 
hide the articles which they have 
stolen. — Harper's Young People. 



SOLDIER AND THISTLE. 

Little Minnie, in her eagerness 
after flowers, had wounded her 
hand on the sharp prickly thistle. 
This made her cry with pain at 
first, and pout with vexation 
afterwards. 

" I do wish there was no such 
thing as a thistle in the world," 
she said pettishly. 

"And yet the Scottish nation 
think so much of it they engrave 
it on the national arms," said her 
mother 

"It is the last flower that I 
should pick out," said Minnio. 
" I am sure they might have 
found a great many nicer ones, 
even among the weeds." 

" But the thistle did them snch 
good service once," said her 
mother, " they learned to esteem 
it very highly. One time the 
Danes invaded Scotland, and they 
prepared to make a night attack 
on a sleeping garrison. So they 
crept along barefooted, as still as 
possible, until they were almost 
on the spot. Just at that moment 
a barefooted soldier stepped on a 
great thistle, and the hurt made 
him utter a sharp, shrill cry of 
pain. The sound awoke the 
sleepers, and each man sprang to 
his arms. They fought with 
great bravery and the invaders 
were driven back with much loss." 

" Well, I never suspected that 
so small a thing could save a na- 
tion," said Minnie, thoughtfully 
—Selected. 



If 



S! 



i 



^H» 



•» 



tlura's day'a work W W 
perched up on tha 
n»g« window, he 
upper from those 
:kcts of hii, and 
I munch it with 
it. Several timea 
d to be cleared of 
9ys who had come 
i friend, who had 
hem all day, off on 
,t lenfjth a porter, 
idently wan warm 
>lks, allowed them 
emaiii. 

aU felt the attrac- 
rindow , and the 
los upon hi* grimj 
Idressod the little 
nato." Even the 
as he paosed, I 
sly glance toward 
Ithough he could 
be seen to join the 
rers. A cheer was 
10 train was sot in 
he monkey glided 
from big and little 

other day of a pet 

Hag, a creature no 

guinea-pig whose 

>und in his cheek 

I thimble, his own 

ir of sleove-links, a 

tton, II shilling and 

Monkeys, 1 am 

given to stealing, 

these pockets to 

» which they have 

r's Young People. 

\ND THISTLE. 

e, in her eagerness 
had wounded her 
arp prickly thistle, 
cry with pain at 
It with vexation 

there was no such 
tlo in the world," 

e Scottish nation 

of it they engrave 

fial arms," said her 

ast flower that I 
out," said Minnie, 
thoy might have 
many nicer ones, 
e weeds." 
stle did them snch 

once," said her 
learned to esteem 
One time the 
Scotland, and thev 
ike a night attack 
rarrison. So they 
refooted, as still as 

they were almost 
ust at that moment 
>ldier stepped on a 
nd the hurt made 
arp, shrill cry of 
:)nnd awoke the 
kch man sprang to 
hey fought with 

and the invaders 
:k with much loss." 
ret suspected that 
could save a na- 
inie, thonghtfnlly 






V. n 



RKl'RINTKD STORIKS, FROM THK "NORTHERN ME.SSKNOER 



OHBISTIE'S CHRISTMAS. 

ar TANiiT. 

CHAPTKH V.-Conlinuid. 

Dear! di>nr! what a state of 
things Diiiht'artoning as it all 
was, ilhristio could lint hp|p b<>- 
ing astonished to soo how cross 
the pi'ople were. 

" Thoy set exactly ss though 
thoy thonorht the ronds and the 
hridf;)<8 had dono it on purpose 
just to vex them," she told Wells 
ns Hho obeyed the motion of his 
hand nnd hrnusht thn baliy to the 
turned seat in front of him. "Do 
you suppose they really know of 
somebody who is to blame !" 

" Why, no," said Wells thought- 
fully, "I presume not; they just 
fret and say 'it is a pretty busi- 
ness!' and all that sort of thing, 
because that is the natural way to 
act when folks are disappointed. 
Isn't that the way you do when 
things don't go to suit you ? ' 

Christie's heod drooped a little 
and the pretty pink flush began 
to come on her cheek. "Oncol 
used to do it to thinirs," she said 
sluwly, with a marked emphasis 
on the word " things." " I would 
slam the door when I was cross 




PKVVY, AND 
THAT. 



Wells said good-natun dly, but 
the tone said that ho wi\8 very 
much interested, and should really 
like to understand Greek if he 



could, "What possible harm 

could thero be in slamming a 

ahoutBomething,ttndI wouldscold'door,or growling at a fire, so long 



the kitchen fire for not burning, 
and I would put the wood down 
on the hearth with a great bang ; 



as nobody heard ^'ou? I should 
say it was a saiu and comfortable 
way of working ofT ill-humor ; 



but onco I lost a penny under the , I m sure I wish some of the pep- 
pery folks I know would try that 
fashion. What made you think 
there was anything bad about 
it?" 

" I didn't find it out myself," 
Christie said, her eyes drooping 
again. " You see I got into 
trouble. I wanted some things 
that I couldn't have, and I wanted 
to do some things that I couldn't 
do, and I thought about them un- 
til they made me feel cross half 
the time. I slammed all the 
doors I could, and thu fire needed 
scolding every time I went near 
it, and 1" — here there was a little 
hesitation and the cheeks grew 



carpet and I scolded about that 
but that was when I was alone. 
The minute Mrs. Briggs came in 
to see mother, or even the mar- 
ket man stopped to see if wo 
wanted anything, I would shut 
the door gently, and lay the wood 
on the hearth just as soltly as I 
could, and I worked half an hour 
once helping Susan Briggs open 
her desk, and never thought of 
being cross, because 1 was 
ashamed, you know, to havo them 
see me do any other way. Now 
shouldn't you think these people 
would feel kind of ashamed to 
grumble before one another?" 

But the only answer that Wells 
seemed to havo ready for this was 
an absent-minded laugh ; ho was 
thinking of one part of Christie's 
sentence that he wanted to have 
explained. 

" Look here," he said, " you 
say you used to be cross at things. 
Do you mean that you've given 
even that up?" 

Christie gravely bowed her 
head. " I'm most cured of it," 
she said soltly. " I think it is 
only once in a long while now 
that I forget. I was so in the 
habit ol it that it was dreadfully 
hard work. You seo this was 
after I had beguti to try to do 
right ; and I thought if I kept 
pleasant before people, thero 
wouldn't bo anything wrong in 
slamming doors a little — when 
nobody was there to see — and in 
scolding the fire because it 
couldn't hove its feelings hurt, 
you know ; but when I found 
out that it was almost worse to do 
that than to be cross to people I 
tried hard to give it up." 

"Tou are talking Greek to me,'' 



pinker — " I even got to scolding 
at the baby when she was most 






■he 



A ■imploton. Nevortheleaa 
meant to tell just tho truth. 

" Yus, I did," she said steadily. 
' One day ho came to see us, and 
mother wasn't at home. The 
baby at Hriggs had burnt himself 
and they sent for mother, and 
father had ifono to the mill, and 
there wasn't anybody at home, 
only just baby and me, and I had 
been real cross to her; I shook 
her a little speck, not to hurt, you 
know, but then it was horrid ; I 
felt so ashain< d of myself that I 
cried ; and justthtMi fho minister 
came. Ho asked me right away 
what was the matter, and that 
mado me cry again, and then, you 
know, I almost hod to tell him. 
It was something ho said that has 
helped mo ever since." 

" Do you mind telling mo what 
it was?" Wells Bnrton's voice was 
so gentle, that she gave up the 
fancy that he was making fun of 
her. 

" Why, it was something that I 
knew all the time, and I've often 



asleep and 'couldn't hear me; real wondered that I did not think ol 
hateful things I said to her, about!'"'"'" mvse"- • '"'J hira that I 
being the hardest baby to get to had no trouble in being pleasant 
sleep that ever was born and about | before people^ becauso I would be 
taking all my time so that I 
couldn't study, nor knit, nor any- 
thing. I never would have said 
it to her if she had been awake, 
and I used to kiss her as soon as 
I had tucked her in the crib, but 
for all that, I grumbled at her a 
great deal. At last it got so bad 
that I knew I was getting to be 
cross all the time, and I couldn't 
seem to stop it ; and one day 
told the minister about it." 

"You did!" Wells Burtons 
exclamation had a good deal of 
admiration in it ; the truth was, he 
began to think that Christie must 
be a very brave girl. He told him- 
self that ho would rather stop 
twenty trains of cars than to go 
to the minister and have a talk 
about his faults ! But Christie 
believed he thought she was 




I HSLPED SUSAN BRIOOS OPEN HER DESK. 



«IH^ 



so ashamed to havo them see mo 
looking cross. And that I kept 
my words pretty near right, but I 
couldn't manago my thoughts. 
And he asked mo how I thought 
I should act if .Tesus should come 
to our house, as ho used to, at 
Mary and Martha's. I told him 
that I knew then I should aet 
just as well as I could ; then he 
asked me if I did not remember 
that .Tesus had come to our house, 
and was staying thero all the 
time, and heard all my thoughts, 
as well as my words? You don't 
know how it mado me feel for a 
moment; I just felt scared. It 
seemed to mo that I could re- 
member all the times that I had 
banged tho door, and rattled the 
wood, and Jesus looking at me ! 
What made mo most ashamed, 
was, that I had tried to behave 
myself before Mrs. Briggs, and 
tho other neighbors, and never 
minded how I behaved before 
Jesus. Just as though I thought 
more of them than I did of 
him !" 

" Humph I" said Wells. " I 
don't pretend to understand. I 
don't see how that helped yon a 
bit. Of course if a fellow could 
realize that Jesus was listening to 
what he said, it would make a big 
difference all tho time. There are 
fiity thousand things a fellow says 
and does that he wouldn't do for 
the would ! But the trouble is 
you can't realize it. A person 
that you can see and hear is very 
dili'erent from one that you can't 
see and hear ; now that's the truth, 
and I don't seu how anybody can 
say it isn't. Do you mean to have 
me understand that you are as 
sure of Jesus being near you as 
you are that I sit on this seat talk- 
ing to you?" 

" I'm'' just as sure of it," Chris- 
tie said with a quiet positiveness 
that went a great way toward 



n 



RKPItlNTED STORIES, FROM THK "NORTHERN M1*>44KN(}RR." 



proTinf the trnth of her word*; any to me do yon think? I might 
but iken it ia » difieroiit fMlinir, take him for • walk np and dttwa 



of ronra*. I can't eipiain it to 
you; I don't know how. I anp- 
poae if you were to talk with onr 
miniater he would make it all 
plain. But [ know thia : the more 

5 on pray, the aurer you get that 
eana alaya right b«aide you, and 
liaicnatoallyoa *ay. I'm a good 
deal aiirorof it than I naed to be, 
and it keepa growing aurer all the 
time." 

Meantime.yon are wonderins 
what that baby waa about, and 
why heendur)>d ao long a con* 
Teraation that he did not under- 
atand. The truth ia, that in tell* 
ing yon about the converHstion, 
I nave left out the number of- 
timea that Chriatie lilted him 
from one ahoulder to the other, 
and the aweet cooing wordaahe 
continually put in, between her 
anawera, and the number ot 
times Wella snapped bis lingers 
for Kaby's benefit, and how he 
took his watch from its chain, 
and gave it to ChriKt.io to hold, 
8o that the baby could aeu it 
but at laat baby's palienoe waa 
entirely gone. Ho wonid have 
nothing more to do with the 
watch, and he pushed Christie's 
hand away '..vagely, when she 
tried to pal his cheek. He had 
occasionally given aome very' 
loud yells, aa specimens of what 
ht> could do, and now he went 
at it in earut'st. 

In vain Christie tossed, and 
cooed, and patted. He yelled 
the louder. The lady with the 
" Seaside" story was very much 
annoyed. She shot angry 
glances over at the perplexed 
little maid, and at last she said, 
" I should think if you cannot 
keep that child quiet, it would 
be well for you to let him 
alone." 

" Perhaps the lady will take 
him for a while.your arms must 
be very tired." 

This was Wells' suggestion, 
and he enjoyed the look of dis- 
gust on her face, as she said : " I 
know nothing about babies ; 
bat 1 think it is an imposition 
on the travelling public to have 
one screaming in this fashion." 

"Then," said Wells, "would 
you in this case recommend chok- 
ing, or what would you advise us 
to do?" 

" You are a very impudent 
boy ! " the lady said, and she went 
back to her book, with red 
cheeks. 

Christie could not help laugh- 
ing a little, though she was not 
sure but the lady was correct. 
And the baby yelled! Not 
another ladv among the passen- 
gers. The last one had left the 
car at that unfortunate station 
where the poor mother stopped. 
"The pale-faced young man came 
forward neit; he did not look 
cross, only sorry. " Poor fellow !" 
he said to the baby, " yon think 
yon are having a hard timie, I sup- 
pose, but there are worse trials in 
Ul'e than yours. What would he 



the car and rest your arma." 
But the perrerae baby yelled 
like a lunatio the moment the 
thing waa attempted, and utterly 
refused to leave his small proteo* 
tor's aide, 



Then the nice old gentleman 
decided to show his akill. " What 
would he aay to a augar-plum, do 
Tou suppose? ' he asked, bending 
kindly overChristio, aiidahowing 
a round, white candy. 

" He'll be aure to approve of 
that," Wells said, but Chriatie 



He shows good taste," said hesitated, and a lovely color 
the pale young man with a wan glowed on her cheeks. " If you 
smile; ** he probably sees that I please sir," she anid timidly, "I 
know very little about babiea." don't know whether his mother 



=1 




THR PRODIQAL SON. 






Whoae name endotiM thii iweat stoTy, 
And sukranteM thin picture true t 

Ah, louk, it is th« Lord' of Olor j. 
Who spwiu thau woidi to jrou. 

We liaten, end are loat in wander, 
li man su vile, is Qod lo kind t 

We look again, and written under, 
>Tii"JeeU8Chriat," we and. 

Mo ain aecsped Hia aearchina TUon, 
Uia eyei men'a inuuoat tboughta eonld 
aoan, 

Uie langoage nerer lacked preoiiion — 
" Ue knew what waa in man." 

He came to ihow Hia Father'a feeling. 
And breathe it o'er the earth abroai 

Qod'i lore by word and sign revaalifig— 
He knew wliat waa in Ood. 

Ah, Lord, we make a tn» confeaion ; 

Aa in a glaaa aaraelTea we view ; 
In every action and expieaioa 

The prodigal ia traik 

But trom thia piotoM may w* gather 
An imaue aure of God above t 

la he that fond forgiving Father, 
And ia hia heart all iove I 



Tea, though ooi feet lo far have wan- 
dered 
In baae delight* and miry waya, 
And though Hii auluunce we have 
aquandered 
And wasted our beat days ; 

Until by Ood and man forsaken. 
Our pleasures gone, our wishes cioat, 

By sudden angauh overtaken, 
We feel that aUU loat; 

TUen in that hour of darkaet aonow 
The Spirit calls us from ahr. 

And from the thought of Ood we borrow 
A brightness like a star. 

And we arise, and lo ! He meets us 
With loving look and hutening feet ; 

We fall Itafore Him, but he greets ua 
With lienediction sweet. 

He feels. He shows, a Father's yearning. 

He lavishes a Father'a lov«. 
And celebrates a son's tetanung 

'Mid angel hosts above. 

O Father, send us Thr good Spirit, 
Since Jeeua deigned loi ns to die, 

Draw us, and fit us to iabarit 
Thy glorious Home on High 1 

RicaaBD WiLTOH, H.A. 



would like it ; they don't let some 
babies have candy at all ; mother 
thinka it bad for them. " 
■' Ah * yea," he said, " I ought 
to know it by thia time; I'm al- 
ways getting into distj^raoo with 
my daughters by bringing the 
stuff to their babiea; they don't 
allow it at all, and yon are a wise 
little woman to think ot it." 
(7b be eoHlinueJ.) 

' m 

A SPIDER'S WEB. 
The Kpider'a thread is made 
npoi iiinumerabla small threads 
or fibres, one ot these threads 
being estimated to be one two- 
millionth of a hair in thickness. 
Three kinds of thread are 
spun : One of great strength for 
the radiating or spoke lines of 
the web. The cross lines, or 
what a sailor might call the rat- 
lines, are finer and are tena- 
cious,, that is, thoy have upon 
them little specks or globules of 
a very sticky gum. These 
specks are put on with even in- 
terspaces. They are set quite 
thickly along the line, and are 
what, in the first instance, cntch 
and hold the legs or wings ot 
the fly. Once caught in this 
fashion the prcy is held secure 
by threads flung over it some- 
what in the manner of a lasso. 
The third kind oi silk is that 
which the spider throws out in 
a mass or tiood, by which it 
suddenly envelops any i)rey of 
which it is afraid, as, fur ex- 
ample, a wasp, A scientiiic ex- 
perimenter once drew out from 
the body of a single spider 3,- 
480 yards of thread or spider 
silk — a length a little short of 
three miles. Silk may be 
woven of spiders' thread, and it 
is more glossy and brilliant than 
that of the silk worm, being of 
a golden color. An enthusiastic 
entomologist secured enough of 
it for the weaving of a suit ot 
clothes for Louis XIV. — Prof. 
Wood. 

A Little Uirl who has 
noticed the absence of seeds in 
bananas, wishes to know how 
the fruit is grown. From cut- 
tings or shoots which first send 
up two leaves rolled tightly to- 
gether until the green roll is two 
or three ieet high, when the 
blades unfold. At the end of the 
nine months a purple bud ap- 
pears in the centre, followed by 
yellow blossoms which mature to 
fruit, growing in bunches of seve- 
ral hundred. The plant dies 
down as soon as the fruit is 
formed, but the rootstock soon be- 
gins to send up new leaves again. 
Bananas are found in all tropical 
countries ; a piece of ground of a 
size to grow enough wheat to 
feed one man will, il planted with 
bananas, raise fruit enough lor 
twenty-five. — Ex. 



If You cast away one cross 
you will doubtless imd another, 
and perhaps a heaviei one.— 
Thomas li Kempit. 






^t* 



y don't lat MUie 

y at all ; mother 

for them. " 

aaiil, " I ought 

ii* titnu; I'm •!• 

diai^raoo wilh 
Y briiii^ing th« 
>iea; (huy don't 
i yoa are a wiie 
link ol it." 
n/i'mmi/.) 

R'8 WEB. 
thrf ad is mad« 
hluamall threads 
>i th»ae throada 

1 to bu one two- 
lair in thicltnesB. 
of thread are 
reat strength for 
r spoke linea of 

croaa lines, or 
ight call the rat- 

and are tena- 
they have npou 
ks or globules of 

gnm. Tliese 
on with even in- 
y are set quite 
he line, and are 
it instance, catch 
egs or wings of 

caught in this 
y is held secure 
ig over it Bomo- 
inner of a Iasho. 
I ot silk is that 
or throws out in 
d, by which it 
ops any prey of 
raid, as, I'ur ex- 

A scientiiicex- 
drew out from 
single spider 3,- 
tread or spider 

a little short of 

Silk may bu 
rs' thread, and it 
nd brilliant than 

worm, being of 

An enthusiastic 
cured enough of 

iug of a suit of 
lis XIV.— Pro/. 

iiRi. who has 

ence of seeds in 

to know how 

n. From cut- 

hich first send 

lied tightly to- 

reen roll is two 

gh, when the 

t the end of the 

urplo bud ap- 

re, followed by 

hich mature to 

mnches of seve- 

he plant dies 

9 the fruit is 

tstock soon be- 

w leaves again. 

1 in all tropical 

ot ground of a 

mgh wheat to 

it planted with 

lit enough tor 



way one cross 
IS iiud another, 
heaviei oue. — 



REPRINTED ST0RIE8. FROM TIIK "NOKTIIKKN MKSSKNOKR." 



CHRISTIE'S CHRISTMAS. 

ST rmiT. 

OBAPTKR VI. 

Von have no idea what a life 
that baby led them, unless you 
have a little brother or sister at 
home, I suppose yon have but 
little idea how a baby nan cry, 
who is very tired, and hungry, 
and a good deal frightened ; for by 
this time he began to think it the 
strangest thing in life that his 
mother did not come and attend 
to him. Christie took a hint from 
the pale young man, and began 
to walk up and down the car, 
with baby in her arms ; but he 
was much heavier than the baby 
at home, and it took very little of 
this exercise to make her young 
back ache. Wells looked on 
sympathetically, as well as a little 
indignantly, fjnablo to take a 
step, or even to twist himself 
about, so that he could take the 
baby in bis arms, he told himself 
that if ho were that young man 
he would see if ho could not carry 
that baby a while, and not let o 
little girl tug with it all the time. 
Suppose ho did yell, what of it ? 
That was no more than ho was 
doing now.every time he thought 
of it. Ho should like to see him- 
self scared away by the crying of 
a baby ! As for the literary young 
lady, words could not express his 
contempt for her ; he showed it by 
curling his lip most expressively 
whenever ho looked in her direc- 
tion. But she, having onco more 
buried herself in her Dook, lost all 
this. 

" I know what the poor little 
fellow wants," said Christie, re- 
turning to Wells, during a lull. 
"He is so hungry that he can't 
help crying. Ho keeps stuffing 
both his little hands into his 
mouth ; they are always hungry 
when they do that. His mother 
had some milk in a bottle for him, 
in that little satchel she carried in 
her hand. I saw her otfer him 
some once, but he wasn't hungry 
just then, and pushed it away. I 
just wish she had left the bag 
when she went away ; but she 
carried it on her arm." 

' Probably it had her pocket- 
book in it as well as a bottle of 
milk," Wells said ; and then : " I'm 
sorry for the poor little chap, if 
he is hungry ; we all stand n fair 
chance to be in the same fix if we 
stay here long " 

" I have cookies, and thiuffs," 
said Christie thoughtfully ; " l>ut 
they won't do for babies, you 
know " 

" I don't know a thing about 
it," declared Wells. "But I 
should think that folks would 
rather have them eat cookies than 
starve." 

There was no denying this, so 
Christie only laughed; but aa yet 
she did not resort to cookies. She 
thought of the rows of milk pans 
ranged on the shelves at home ; if 
she only had one of theai ! She 
thought ot the milk can that had 
started from home with them ; 



what a pity that itaalopping-place I shoulder and take a nice little 
had been one station bark. Away I nap 1 Then perhaps the train 
over in the fields, no other house I wonld go on in a few minules,and 
near H, stood what looked like a bit I maybe the bridge isn't down at 
ofafarmhnuse. ('hrislin wondered all; nnd innybe the nine o'clork 
whether they ha<l milk there, and train will come in all right, and 
whether somebody couldn't go bring your mamma, and she will 
(here and try to get some. Shu have a bottle l\ill of nice milk for 






mentioned the wonder to Wells. 

" It's a forlorn little place," he 
said, trying to raisu himself on 
one elbow to see it, frowning 
deeply with pain as he did so. 

•' I don't believe they have any 
milk there that is fit to drink. 
Besides, how could a body get (o 
it? They would get up to their 
ears in mud. 1 hose fields look 
as though they ha«l no bottom to 
them. My ! how quick I would 
skip over there it I had tho use of 
my feet!" 

Christie could not help smiling 
again, at tho apparent contradic- 
tions in his words ; but she kept 
looking out at the little house, be- 
tween her soothings of the baby. 

"I most believe I will try it," 
see said at lost. " Something has 
got to be done ; this babjc is al- 
most starved ; I suppose that ho 
was so busy gazing about him this morn 
ing, that he could not eat his breakfast." 

" You ! ' said Wells, regarding her 
with surprise, mingled with respect. 
" Why, yon would stick fast in the mud. 
I don't believe your mother would 
like such doings at 
all." 
Christie looked down 
at her shoes ; she so 
seldom had a new pair 
that these were treas- 
ures; alittle nicer they 
were.than any sheever 
had before; she remem- 
bered, too, her 
mother's oft-ropeatcd 
charge, on no account 
to step ofi* the train 
until they reached the 
city ; yet she said re- 
solutely : "My mother 
always likes me to do 
things that ought to 
be done. I think I 
am going to try it. I 
don't see another per- 
son who would be 
likely to go." 

" Suppose you try the young 
lady in the velvet gown?" said 
Wells ; " she has almost finished 
her story." 

Then he and Christie both 
laughed. Her face sobered at 
once, and she began to take 
anxious looks through the cars 
The old gentleman was not to be 
thought of for a moment ; his hair 
was too white to think of his tak- 
ing a tramp like that. There was 
the pai^faced maii,but she looked 
regretfully at his ahining boots 
and beautiful pantaloons. The 
mud would certainly ruin them ; 
and what a plight he would be in 
when they reached the city ! She 
almost thought he would go, if 
she were to ask him, but it did 
seem too bad to do so 

'* O baby, baby !" she said in a 
soft cooing tone, "couldn't you 
possibly lay your head on my 



you 

But tho baby was utterly dis- 
gusted with this suggestion. He 
put no faith in any ol it ; he 
angrily bobbed up nis head as 
often as Christie tried to ruddle 
it in her neck. Ho snatched at 
her hair, and tried to pull the 
very braids out by the roots ; ho 
scratched at her face, and in vari- 
ous other ways conducted himself 
like a tiger Wells, meanwhile, 
seeing ChriRlio glance toward the 
house ill tho fields, with a resolu- 
tion of some sort growing on her 
face, made asui^goMtion : 

"Thero is ono thing you want 
to think of, whoever tramps oil' 
there, runs tho risk of having thiN 
train skip off and leavo them. I 
dare say wo may go in a littli; 
while; trains are hardly ever de- 
tained aa lung as they think they 




TH« LITTLE UOLY-LOOKINU HOUSE. 



are going to be. Once, when we 
were east, there was something 
the matter with the track, and the 
conductor didn't think we could 
go on under three hours, and 
father let my sister Estelle and I 
go and take a walk; and in just 
half an hour that train went on, 
and Estelle and I had no end of a 
time getting with our folks 
again !' concluded Wells, very 
wisely. 

This story, like many other 
things in this world, had an 
exactly opposite effect from what 
was intended. 

" I shall go myself," said Chris- 
tie positively. To herself she 
said : " I shall never ask that 
poor young man to go and run 
the risk of missing the train,when 
he is in such a hurry ; and the 
rest of these people look as 
though they wouldn't do it for 



iq 



anything, and a« though I wonld 
rather go three times than to itsk 
them," 

" What will you do if the train 
takes a notion to go on?" said 
Welln, dismayed for her, 

"Why."sHid Christie, "Ifthia 
train can go on, another can come, 
or go, some time, you know ; and 
I could wait for it and take it. 
Would they take my ticket on 
another train ? " Tho startled 
tone in which she asked this 
question, made Wells understand 
tnat her ticket was a matter of 
importance to her. He set her 
mind at rest about th.it, and then 
cnme to the front with a new 
idea : 

"Have yon a return ticket? 
When were you coming back, 
anyhow / " 

"To-night;" said Christie 
laughing in spite of all the troubles 
of tho way. " Do you suppose I 
Hliall get there in lime to come 
hack ? What did you say about 
u return ticket ? Ought I to 
havo one ?" 

" Whv, that is tho way they 
generally do," this old traveller 
explained; "buy a round trip 
ticket, you know, it saves ton or 
fifteen cents; but it is of no conse- 
qnenoe, yon can just as well buy 
ono at the city station if you ever 
get thero." 

Christie looked down at her 
ticket with a perplexed and 
sorrowful nir ; it Wiis not round 
certainly. If it nu!,'ht to havo 
been, and if anything that she 
could hn^^e done about it would 
have saved her lilteen cents, sho 
was very sorry, lor money was of 
great consequence to her. " 1 did 
not know about it," she said 
meekly ; and felt that sho did not 
yet know, and that, by and by, 
when things were qnieter, she 
would ask Wells why it was that 
round tickets were cheaper, and 
why they did not give her one. 
Meantime the poor discouraged 
baby had settled into a restless 
slumber ; Christie had been 
watching his eyes clo8e,while she 
walked slowly back and forth in 
tho cor. She did not believe ho 
would sleep long, he was too 
hungry for that. And now her 
resolution was formed. " I'm go- 
ing over there to try to get some 
milk," sho said firmly "If some- 
body would make a nice little 
pillow of my shawl, I could lay 
the poor baby down. Do yon 
suppose the old gentleman with 
the gold glasses would see that 
he did not roll off the seat ?" 

"Why do you pick him out?" 
asked Wells, amused over the 
whole tWng, and much disgusted 
that he could not help " Give 
me the shawl; I can roll it up. I 
haven't sprained my hands, at 
least. Now lay the young scamp 
down, and go and cive tho old 
gentleman our compliments, and 
say that ho is appointed special 
guard, with orders not to fall 
asleep at his post, under pain of 
being scratched." 

Christie's eyes were brim full of 



n 



«Hi 



A 






R8PRINTKI) KTOKIRH. FROM THK "NOKTHKRN MK8SKNQKR." 



oould do to drag thorn trom ono 
bo( to the other ; for the rood 
■oemod to ba made ap oi • raocen* 
•ion of boge. Once the oeme to • 
little pool of muddy water ; came 
to it before ihu mw it ; apiuhed 
right in, and aoaked her feet 
awar above the aiiklei, and apat- 
iered the prntty dr«M. Doar ! 
dear! If mother conid aeo her 
now ! What a t>iin|( it waa to go 
offon a Chriat' •'*» ride ! 

It waa a lont^ walk, much longer 
than it had auemod Irom tho car 
window. With every atup the 
diffinnlty of getting on increaaed, 
and once ahn had really to lean 
againat a friendly poat that aeemed 
aet up to mark the lot, and try to 
dig the mud from her ahoea How 
■urely they wore ruined ; and they 
were to have been her Sunday 
beat for a year I 






foB, but aba want orar to tho old 
MBtlaman, with a gravely gentJ* 
faoe.and made known her petition 

" Eh, what t" he aaid, coming 
back from aomo day-dream with a 
aigh. Oh, yea, certainly he would 
keep the poor little follow from 
rolling otr. " But if ho criea," he 
aaid anxionaly, " I ahall not know 
what to do; 1 never could do 
anything with babiea when they 
cried." 

Chriitie could only hope that 
thia one would not cry ; and hav- 
ing catabliahed tho guard where 
ahe wanted him, ahe prepared to 
aet otf. 

By thia time Wella had another 
idea. He had been fumbling in 
hia pocket, and now drew out his 
handsome Rusaia leather pocket- 
book. 

" Just let me furniah the fnnda 
for the youngater, wont yon ? 
aiuce I can't help in any other 
way " 

" Will I need money ? " Chriatie 
aaked, stopping with a startled 
air, to lock into hia face. Her 
mother lived in a little houae back 
in the tielda, but she would never 
think of taking money in return 
for a little milk to be given to a 
hungry baby. 

" Why, of course," said Wella. 
" That is, if yon get any milk, 
which I doubt ; the house doesn't 
look like it from here, liut yon 
will have to buy a pitcher, or 
something to put it in ; they won't 
trust you, they'll think you are a 
tramp, you know. Offer to pay 
them well, and the Utile chap 
will fare a good deal better than 
he will if you ask a favor." 

As he spoke he held out a crisp 
bank note Christie took it slow- 
ly, with a bright glow on her 
cheeks. It was a five dollar hill. 
She had never had so much money 
in her hands before ; and to tell 
the truth, she did not quite like 
to have this in her hands. She 
had to remind herself that the 
milk was not for her, and that she 
certainly had not money enough 
of her own to pay for it, and get 
hack home with Just then — 
wise little woman that she waa — 
came into play some of the good 
sense which her guod mother had 
tried so hard to teach her. She 
handed back the crisp new note. 
"U-ive roe something smaller, 
please," she said pleasantly,"! 
don't like to carry so much, nor 
to offer it; they would think I 
was a very suspicions tramp ! 
Milk is only ten cents a quart, | 
and a pitcher or a tin pail does 
not cost much." 

It was Wells' turn to blush 
now ; he plainly saw that she had falling as they rushed into her 
been the more business-like of the j eyes. But she shut them back re- 
two, aud crumpling the bill in , solutely and said aloud " I know 
his hand, he produced some shin- j I am doinir right That baby will 
iug silver pieces in its place, aud get sick if he don't have his miik ; 
Christie wont. j and a baby is worth raore than 

Oh, but that mud was deep ! , ten pairs of shooh and a new dress 
How quickly were the trim new besides " 

shoes oesmeared all over with a Now she waa fairly at the gate 
thick yellow plaster? Worse than j of the little ugly-looking houae. 
that, they were getting too heavy In a minute more ahe would be 
to carry ; it waa aa much as she | inside. 

M 



Mo, ak* wouldn't Bow, wow ! 
wow I Hare wu a fallow who 
diapatud tho way with har, and 
came aiiddnnly bowing at hor, a* 
if the least that he should think 
of doing waa to awallow har at 
once. 

Now it hifl>pened that Ohriatie, 
unusually brave about moat 
thinga, was droadAiHy afraid of a 
dog, 

She gave a pitiful little ahriak, 
and tho next thing ahe know, she 
waa picking herself out of the 
meanest-looking mud hole ahe 
had seen in her trip. The dog 
had retired to a safe distance, and 
with hia head hung down, aud 
his silly little tail between his 
legs, waa receiving a lecture from 
a woman with a froway head.and 
sleeves rolled up ai the elbow, 
who appeared in tbo door of the 




FORCED OPEN 



QROWINO TREE. 



There was another sad thought little house. ' 
connected with all this : What a of yourself * 
plight she would be in by the 
time she reached uncle Daniel's. 
And mother had taken such pride 
in having her so neatly dressed, 
with a new-fashioned jacket and 
all ! What with the mud, and the 
weariness, and the anxiety, she 
could hardly ktop the tears from 



Aren't you ashamed 
she said, shaking 
hor head ; " a decent dog you are 
to be cutting up such tricks ! 
Come along, child what do you 
want ? There'a no kind of need 
of yonr being afraid of that there 
dog; there ain't a bigger coward 
in all Kansas than he is. Mercy 
on me! What a fix yon are in ! 
I guess your ma, whoever ahe is, 
will give you something to make 
yon remember Bose. You've jnat 
ruined your dress. Where did 
you come from, anyway ?" 

(To be continued.) 






A Life grandly holy is only the 
adding together of minutes scrn- 
pnlonsly holy. 



THB MIGHT OK THU 
Clous SEED. 

Near Mary atreet, in llanorer, 
which ia becoming a flourishing 
mercantile centre of Northern 
Uerm;»iiv,is the old Qarden grave- 
yard. Once in the oulikirti, now 
the ruah of tralHo and rattle of 
street cars disturb the quiet of 
the old oometery. For many a 
vear ita rusty galea have never 
been swung bacK to receive any 
new tenants. Tho gravea are 
overshadowed by large treea ind 
overgrown by weeds, and ne- 
gleet marks the spot everywhere. 
Quite near the entrance, in the 
shadow of tho old church, lie the 
remains of a lady who belonged 
to tho old nobility and who waa 
buried here during the middle of 
tho last century. Her grave ia 
covered by two maaaive blocks of 
sandatono on which lies another 
double their aine. The latter ia 
ornamented in relief by an ex- 
tinguished torch, the ayir 1 of 
death. 

The immense blocks are .list- 
ened together by heavy iron- 
clamps, showing the intention of 
the owner not to have the place 
diaturbed This is atill more em- 
phatically pronounced by the in- 
scription which ia hewn in large 
lettera opposite to the name of the 
occupant and tho date of her 
death. On one of the lower 
atonea, " This grave, bought for 
all time, must never be opened." 
But what is man's will in a uni- 
verse ruled by an Almighty 
Creator ? Where the two stones 
are joined together, a passing 
wind, not long after the monu- 
ment waa erected, carried a tiny 
seed. No one observed it but 
the eye of God. 

But there it took, and aa sum- 
mer showers and winter storms 
followed the course of the sea- 
sons it grew, ita roota finding 
nourishment in the soil beneath, 
till now an immense birch-tree 
spreads out its silvery and grace- 
ful branchea over the moaa- 
covered stones, and the sparrows 
build their nests iu it. But in 
getting its present growth and 
expansion its great roots have 
gone clear through the grave, 
and the dust of the dead baa 
nourished them, while its mas- 
sive trunk has lifted the ponder- 
ous stones out of their places, 
turning them on edge and rend- 
ing the iron clamps that held them 
together. And there the leafy 
branches, high in the air, nod to 
the sculptured legend below, as 
if in quiet mockery of the man's 
vain command, "This grave, 
<>ought for all time, must never 
be opened." It is the triumph of 
life over death. — Selected. 

A Great Step ia gaiued when 
a child has learned that there is 
no necessary connection between 
liking a thing and doing it. — 
Guetnesat Truth. 

God's Almanac has but one 
day , that is to-day. 



«H» 



A 



^ 



OK TllK PHK 
9 HEBi), 

treni, in lUnorer, 
ttiitf • llourivhlng 
tru of Northern 
oldQardvnfrravv 
Iho ouUkirli, now 
iflo tml ratllu ot 
urb the quint of 
rjr. For manf a 
laiea haru novnr 
K to fKceivo any 
The graves aro 
y large troea ind 
weetla, and ne- 
•pot ovorywhore. 
entrance, in the 
d church, lie the 
y who belonged 
ty and who waa 
ng the middle of 
Her grave ia 
maaaive blocka of 
hich Ilea another 
n. The latter ia 
relief by an ex- 
, the ayip 1 of 

blocka are >aat- 
by heavy iron- 
the intention of 

> hare the place 
ia atill more em- 

inced by the in> 
ia hewn in large 
) the name of the 
lie date of her 

> of the lower 
ive, bought for 
iver be opened." 
»'b will in a nni- 

an Almighty 
9 the two stonea 
her, a paaaing 
ifter the monn- 

carriod a tiny 
ibserved it but 

ik, and oa anm* 
winter storma 
rae of the aea- 
roota finding 
>e aoil beneath, 
enao birch-tree 
ery and grace- 
'er the moaa- 
id the sparrows 
in it. But in 
t growth and 
lat roots have 
rh the grave, 
the dead has 
while its mas- 
ed theponder- 
their places, 
dge and rend- 
that held them 
lere the leafy 
the air, nod to 
end below, as 
ot the man's 
This grave, 
must never 
he triumph of 
lected. 



gained when 
that there is 

!tion between 
doing it. — 



1 




f 

y OHBISTIB'8 0HBISTUA8. 

' BT rA«if. 

OUAPTKR VI.-UmlMMd. 

Poor Christie, her face in a 
deeper glow than had boen on it 
during thia eventful morning, 
limping a little in one foot, and 
wondering whether this was 
another aprain, made her way 
aoroas the stretch of mud that atill 
lay between her and the honae, 
and began her atnry. 

The open door gave her a view 
of quite a good-aised kitchen in 
which all aorta of houaehold work 
aeemed to bn going on at once. A 
amell of cabbage came from the 
big pot on the atove ; a amoU of 

Singurbread came from the open 
oor of the oven, where 
a young woman knelt to 
examine it, a pan of ap- 
plea partly pared aat on 
the table, and quite cloao 
to them tied into a chair, 
aata yellow-headed baby, 
in a pink calicodreaa, and 
wearing a pug noae, 
waihod-out blue eyea, 
and a soiled face. 

He looked utterly un- 
like the baby in the cars, 
and did not once sugg>>st 
the baby at home. Yet 
Christie was glad to see 
him. Probably thoy had 
milk, and they would 
have tender hearts for 
other babies. 

"If you please,'' she 
began in a iientle explana- 
tory tone, tlie woman still 
standing in the door, 
holding it partly open, 
"I came from the cars 
over here: the train is 
stopped by some trouble, 
and there is a poor baby 
whoso mother ' ' — here 
she gave a little squeal 
and sprang past the 
woman in the door, quite 
into the kitchen. 

"For the land's sake! I 
believe she's craay !" 
Thus much the woman 
said, before she saw what 
was the matter; and 
really by the time she 
saw there was nothing 
the matter the danger 
was over. It was just 
one of those things that 
happen in a second, or 
else they do not happen 
at all. There was a girl 
about the size of Christie whose 
business it evidently was to at- 
tend to the restless, tied-up baby, 
and who had been so occupied in 
staring at Christie that she hi>.d 
entirely forgotten her duty. 
Baby thus left to employ his wits, 
discovered that by a sudden 
tilting motion hecould tiphischair 
backwards, and give himself a 
ride 



REPRINTKD NT()R|»X KKOM TllK •NOUTIIKKN MI<:SHKN(JKR." 



was exactly behind it' In reality 
the baby's head did not touch the 
stove at all, tMteauae he held it up 
and yelled. At leaat that waa 
one reaaon ; the other waa that in 
leaa than aquarturof aaeoundthe 
chair waa righted by Chriatie 
heraelf; for juat one apring 
brought her from the door to the 
chair. But, dear m*'! you ahonld 
have aeen the excitement which 
prevailed in Iho lilllu log houae 
then. That baby was just as 
important as any other buby in 
the world. His mother untied 
with nervous fingers the string 
that bound him, and hunted, and 
kissed, and crii^d over him, and 
praised Christie, and scolded 



sobs came deeply drawn, as aha 
vaniahod by the woo.Ubed door. 
I'hratia felt aorry for her, and 
indignant with her mother. 
There waa a very great tlilFerenue 
in mothera, certainly, ureater than 
ahe had ever aupposea. 

The indignation gave her cour- 
age to tell lier atory rapidly and 
well. There were a great many 
exolamaliohH over it, a great many 
queilioiiN aNki-d and answered, 
and Chriatiu had to kiaa the baby 






could u d'led when ahe reached 
llie train, and concluded to be 
meek; eap«ciaMy sinrn they did 
not know her stall. Mow could 
they be sure ,'. \tshe did not 
want to run away with Josiah's 
boots f 

On her arm ahn hiul a pail nf milk 
which looked rich and <!ri'aiiiy,and 
ahe had bought a lillle liny cup 
V hich the wnmnii aaid they got 
for Jimmy only yenlerduy. For 
the cup ahe paid eight roiils, and 



which ahe would nothave minded pur t lie pail twentyfivi-, hut Iboy 

at all if hia face had been clean. 

8ho had a chance to wash the 

mud from her face and handa, and 

the woman herself carefully 

bruahed mud from Iho pretty suit. 




BATUBDAY'S WonK FOK SUNDAY'S DINNER. 
(Outline Druwiiiff Lesson.) 



Sarah Ann, all in one breath. 

"Just to think !" shosaid. " If 
you hadn't a-seen him just that 
minute and sprung like a deer, he 
might a-been burnei to a crisp ! 
Mother's precious darling Jimmy ! 
Sarah Ann, you good-for-nothing 
young one you, don't stand there 
whimpering; if you had been 
attending to your business instead 
wouldn't 



of staring, this wouldn't have 
happened. Go out into the wood- 
Moreover, [fancy, ho argued shed, do; you make mo sick." 
that this process might in time! This advice was accompanied 
loosen the chains that bound him by a box on the ear; not a hard 
to the chair ; so he tried it. Just slap, in fact, I doubt whether 
as Christie looked that way he had Sarah Ann felt it at all ; but that 
tried it for the fourth time with she felt the tongue, and was pain- 
such effect that the chair lost its fully ashamed, was evident: her 
balance, and the glowing store face Damed a deep red, and her 






bewailing the stains, and finding 
one place with a zigzag tear. It 
all took time, and Christie was 
conscious of libtening painfully 
for the whistle of the departing 
train. But at last she was started 
un her way ; her shoes exchanged 
for a pair of ugly-looking boots, 
which the woman told ner she 
miffht leave in the bog by the 
railway track, and she had the 
comfort of hearing it said in a loud 
whisper, that they were so awful 
worn out and good for nothing, 
that Josiah wouldn't care much 
if she did make off with them. 
After that Christie had a mind not 
to take them, but she lookeddown 
at the shoes hung over hat arm 
which had been cleaned, and 



would lake nothiiig for the milk, 

and there waa a good (|uart, 

Chriatie calculntfil. 

On the whole, her trip buck to 

the train whs mui'h pletinanter 
thiin the jc)uriii>y out had 
been. 8he discovered 
that day why boyi wore 
boolit, a thinif tlnil ahe 
had never uiulurslnod be- 
fore. They certainly 
made their way tbrougn 
the mud much better 
than shoes. 

There stood the train, 
without apparently hav- 
ing had u thought of 
going. I way to leave her. 
She set down her pail, 
and carefully oulleil off 
the boots and laid them 
in a Nort of gully ai the 
side of the track, then 
slipped into her own wet 
ones, and climbed ir.to 
the train. None too soon, 
for bi'by was shrieking 
wildly. The old 
gentleman looked reliev- 
ed when he saw her. 

" Well, little woman,'' 
he said, "our hopes all 
rest on you. If you can 
quiet thibslorm, we shall 
owe you a debt of 
gratitude." 

" We've been having a 
first-class circus here," 
said Wells, "ever since 
you went. You hudn't 
jumped the first mud 
puddle wh(;n he opened 
his eyes and looked 
around him and begaii. 
That Seaside Library 
woman over there is 
going to have him sent 
to the house of correction 
as soon as ever we reach 
the city. I see it in her 

eyes." 
"Poor fellow !" said Christie ; 

but she did not mean the old 

gentleman in spectacles, nor yet 

Wells Burton. 

CHAPTER VII. 

Do yon imagine that the train 
soon started ? Nothing seemed 
farther from its thoughts. 

The baby eagerly drank his 
milk from the bright tin cup, 
much occupied, it is true, as soon 
as his first hunger was appeased, 
with gazing at the queer shapes 
in its sides, bntneverrecognizing, 
apparently, his own beautiful 
face ; but after each gaze, he 
would seize the cup and take 
another long draught. 



£ 



^H9 






A^ 



f^i 



is- 



le 



REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THK " NORTH F.RN MKSSENGER." 



" I tell you he was hungry and snre I don't know. The next 



thirsty both, I shonld think!' 
Wells said, watching him with 
interest; "his mother onght to 
give you a great many thanks for 
this." 

"Poor mother !" said Christie 
with a sigh, and she drew the 
baby closer, He settled back in 
her arms at last, satisfied and 
smiling. "Tamed," Wells called 
it, and he and the old gentleman 
who had returned to his own seat 
exchanged smiles ol admiration, as' 
Christie "mothered" the baby, 
cooing him presently into quiet, 
restful slumber. 

The shawl did duty again as a 
pillow, and this time, 
genuine sleeping was done. 

Longp.ist nine o'clock now, 
and no train either came or 
went. The officials seemed 
all to have departed, and 
someof the passengers. The 
old gentleman kept his seat, 
so did the pale-iaced man, so 
did the disgusted young lady 
who had iinished her book, 
and had now no other 
occupation to indn.lge in but 
grumbling. 

" How far are we from the 
city'?" Christie questioned. 

" Why, not more than a 
dozen miles." 

" I should think some of 
the men who are in a hurry 
would try to hire a waggon to 
take them in." 

Wells shook his head. " I 
shoull like to see a waggon 
that could get through this 
mud !" he explained. " You 
see there is no waggon road ; 
the old roadstrikos otf atthat 
junction down below, and 
winds around, I don't know 
how many miles. I don't 
suppose it would be possible 
to drive direot from here to 
the city, and (he regular road 
is used so little out this way 
now, that it must be horrid 
after these rains." 

" Well, shouldn't you think 
that man over there, who is 
so anxious, would try to 
walk ! 1 think 1 could walk 
twelve miles if mother or the 
baby was sick." 

" Not in this mud, I 
venture. I doubt if you ever 
took many long walks in such 
mud. Why, in some places 
it is knee deep ! Besides, 
don't you see he would stand 
a chance of seeing this train 
whisk by him when he was 
aljout half way. No ; his best 
plan is to sit still and be patient." 

'' He doesn't look patient," said 
Christie. " I never saw any- 
body's face look less patient than 
his ; and I am so sorry for him I 
don't know what to do. I keep 
thinking I wish I could do some- 
thing to help him. I wonder if 
it is his mother who is sick." 

Wells studied him for a few 
minutes, and then gave it as his 
opinion that it was .he lady 
whom he meant to »»<arry: 
though why he thoughi so, I am 



thing that claimed attention was 
the sprained ankle. 

I'll tell yoix what it is," said 
Wells, " there's something going 
on down there in my foot that I 
don't like. It gives the most 
horrid little tweaks of pain every 
few minutes that you ever heard 
of, and it is swelling so that I 
don't believe 1 shall ever be able 
to wear .-^ boot again." 

It ought to be bathed," said 
Christie, " and bandaged ; that is 
what mother did when father 
sprained his foot once. She took 
cold water and bathed and bathed 
it, oh, a long time ! then she made 



thought we should have, of 
course I Now I thought I should 
always be where I could get a 
basin or a bowl to put water in. 

" If the baby had drank all the 
milk I could use the pail. But I 
dare not throw it away, because 
he might need it before nis uother 
gets to hyn." 

"I should think not !" said 
AVells, meaning about the milk. 
' It cost too much to throw 
away." 

"Yes;" said Christie gravely. 
■' But then they did not charge 
me any more than other people 
charge for a quart of milk." 

Wells' eyes danced over this ; 



«H9 




SWALLOWS AND NKST. 



a great long bandage, and hound 
it up, and it got well after awhile, 
I think I ousjht to bathe your foot." 

" You !" said Wells in dismay, 
and looking more astonished than 
he had at anything yet. " As i f I 
should allow you to do such a 
thiim- !" 

" Why not ! 1 should think 
you would be very foolish not to 
let me. I know how; I've done 
it for father, by the hour. You 
see it soothes the pain, and makes 
the swelling go down. But I 
don't know what I could put 
water in. How queer it is that 
we can get to places where we 
miss all the little thnigs that wo 



ho had not meant the cost in 
money ; but he said nothing. 

Meantime Christie looked up 
and dowu the car, her face 
thoughtful and anxious. She was 
studying ways for bathing the 
sick foot. Wells was secretly 
gbid that there seemed no chance 
for it. He would have liked his 
mother to do it, but he could not 
bear to think of having his foot 
bathed by this trim little girl. 

( Tu be continued.) 



Hatred stirreth up strifes ; but 
love coverethall sins. — Proverbs x. 



ANECDOTES OF SWALLOWS 
The Rev. Gilbert White, of 
Selborne, records the choosing of 
two odd situations for swallows' 
nests — one of them on the handles 
of a pair of shears which were 
placed against the wall of an out 
house Mr. Jesse, too, ;n his 
" Q-leanmgs in Natural History," 
mentions one which he saw built 
on the knocker of the hall-door of 
the rectory-house of the Rev. 
Egerton Bagot, at Pipe Hapes, 
Warwickshire. He further ob- 
serves: — "The confidence which 
these birds place in the human 
race is not a little extraordinary. 
They not only jiut themselves, 
but their offspring, in the 
power of man. I have seen 
their nests in situations 
where they were in reach of 
one's hand, nnd where they 
might have been destroyed in 
an instant. I have observed 
them under a doorway ; the 
eaves of a low cottage ; 
against the wall of a tool- 
shed ; on the knocker of a 
door, and the rafter of a 
much frequented hay-loft." 
BishopStanley mentions one 
which was built in a bracket 
for holding a lampinacorner 
of an open passage, close to 
the kitchen-door, in a noble- 
man's house in Scotland ; and 
though the lamp was taken 
down to be trimmed every 
day and lighted every even- 
ing, there a swallow — and it 
is believed the same swallow 
— built her nest for three or 
four years, quite regardless of 
the removal or light of the 
lamp, and the constant pass- 
ing and repassing of the 
servants. His lordship adds 
that on the opposite side of the 
same open court the great 
house-bell was hung, under a 
wooden cover fastened to the 
north wall of the hoi.?.!. It 
was a large bell, ai d wns 
rung several times a day to 
call the servants to their 
meals. Under the wooden 
cover of this bell the same 
swallow, it is believed, which 
had formerly built on the 
bracket of the lamp, built a 
nest for several years, and 
never seemed in the least 
disturbed l)y the ringing of 
the bell or the rattling of the 
rope. A ligufe is given of 
the nest, in the form of a 
cornucopia — both ends alhxed to 
the roof of the cin-er. — From 
Murrii's " Ilinlori/ of British Birds." 



To FORiiEAR is to refrain from 
doing or saying something wh;eli 
impulse had prompted us to do or 
say ; it is the conquest of wiser 
second thought over first desires ; 
it is the curbing of anger or in- 
dignation, the stern oelf-diBcipline 
that represses the hasty judg- 
ment, the unkind criticicm, the 
uncharitable interpretation, Ihn 
cutting reply. 



w 



hfl 



m^- 



^C4® 






OF SWALLOWS 

ailbert White, of 

'ds the choosing of 

ions for swallows' 

lom oil thti handles 

hears which were 

the wall ot an oat 

[esse, too, in his 

Natural History," 

which he saw built 

f of the hall-door of 

)U8e of the Rev. 

t, at Pipe Rapes, 

He further ob- 

contidence which 

ace in the human 

ttle extraordinary. 

y put themselves, 

oti'spring, in the 

man. I have seen 

ts in situations 

y were in reach of 

d, nnd where they 

e been destroyed in 

I have observed 

er a doorway ; the 

a low cottage ; 

e wall of a tool- 

the knocker of a 

d the rafter of a 

quented hay-loft." 

tanley mentions one 

s built in a bracket 

g a lampiiiacorner 

II passage, close to 

n-door, in a noble- 

ise in Scotland ; and 

te lamp was taken 

be trimmed every 

ghted every even- 

a swallow — and it 

[ the same swallow 

r nest for three or 

, quite regardless of 

al or light of the 

the constant pass- 

repassing of the 

His lordship adds 

opposite side of the 

n court the great 

was hung, under a 

)ver fastened to the 

of the hoi.?.?. It 

ge bell, a! d wns 

al times a day to 

servants to their 

nder the wooden 

his bell the same 

is believed, which 

rly built on the 

the lamp, built a 

overal yoars, and 

ined in the least 

by the ringing of 

lie rattling of the 

gate is given of 

the form ol a 

th ends allixed to 

he cm'er. — From 

rij of British Birds. " 



is to refrain from 
something wh:ch 
mpted us to do or 
onquest of wiser 
over first desires ; 
g of anger or in- 
tern ■"elf-discipline 
the hasty judg- 
nd ctiticicm, the 
iterpretation, Ihn 



n II 



«m 



n 



REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THE "NOliTllKRN MESSENGER." 



CHRISTIES CHRISTMAS. 



Bt I'ANSY. 

CHAPTEU VI-Coii/iniKii. 



" Oh, thank you !" said Christie. 
' I will bo very careful of it." 
And jho tripped away with a 
relieved face. 
Suddenly Christie hopped up, The old gentleman was watch- 
her face bright, and yet doubt- ing. When the milk was care- 
ful, if you can imagine the two fully poured into the china 
on the same face. She saw away pitcher, what did he do but offer 
to do it, if only the "Seaside to take care of it ! 



Librury" woman would be good 
and help. It was very un- 
pleasant ' o have to ask a lavor of 
her, but Christie was not one to 
stop at unpleasant things, when order to keep 
they looked as though they ought 
to hi done. 

The lady's satchel layopen at. 



Very grateful wns Christie, for 
while she poured, she had 
wondered what she should do 



ankle washy this time very unwill- 
ing to be touched — and the bath- 
ing began. At first Wells' face had 
a flush on it that was not all 
caused by pain. It was such a 
queer thing to have a little girl, 
and she a stranger to him, bathing 
his foot. But the cold water felt 
so pleasant, and the touch of the 
small hand was to gentle and 
skilful, that gradunlly a feeling of 
relief and satislaction began to 



# bei 



satislaction 
with the frail china thing, in | steal over him. 

it from bumping j " I did not kuuw there was so 
against the car. To be sure there j much good in water,'" he eniil, 
was no motion now, but there j watching her as she ^teadily 
] was always the hope that the cars passed her coo! cloth up and down 
her side on the seat. ' She was | would start, [the foot, 

fumbling discontentedly 
through it, looking for some- 
thing that she did not seem 
to find. But the thing that 
Christie saw, wns a small 
white pitcher, lying snugly 
among the napkins, empty, 
and waiting, apparently, lor 
work to do. 

She went over to her in 
haste. It would not do to 
take much time to think 
about this thing which wa'j 
so disagreeable. 

" Would you bo so kind as 
to lend me the pitcher fo' u 
little while to keep baby'i 
milk in ? I want to fill the 
pail with water lo bathe the 
lame foot. It is beginning to 
swell very much, and I think 
that v/ill help it. Mother 
thought it helped father." 

A long speech for Christie. 
The lady looked so very 
disagreeable that the chilu 
felt a nervous desire to keep 
on talking, and not give her 
a chiince to make a dis- 
agreeable answer. But she 
came to the end of her long 
sentence at last, and waited. 

Wells was laughing. He 
was almost willing to have 
his ankle bathed, if it would 
in any way add to the 'is- 
comfort of the lady. 

For what seatned to poor 
Christie several long 
minutes, she stared at her as 
though she were some un- 
pleasant curiosity that had 
not been seen before, then 
said ; " I suppose so. What 
a set 1 have got among ! 
The insolent boy doesn't 
deserve to have his anklo 
bathed ! If he had been sit- 
ting in the cars as he ought 
the accident would not have hap' 
poned. Why can't you throw 
that slop of milk away, if you 
want the pail >." 

Christie meekly explained her 
fears the baby might fancy him- 
self hungry when he awoke ; and 
at fast, with a disgusted sigh, the 
lady took the doliciU china 
pitcher from iti nest and p'>.ssed 
it into Christie's koepic^. 

"Hei-'j," she said, "Yen will 
brcik it, I presume, the next 
thing ; and it belongs to a set. I 
was a simpleton to bring it, but 
how was I >-■: 'now there would 
be such a nuieanca of a time ?" 




THE GREAT ANT-EATER. 



Next the pail must be washed. 
For the first time in her life, 
Christie made her way to the 
water cooler, which stood in a 
corner of the car, and managed to 
learn how to make the water 
flow. Washing the pail was an 
easy matter. It was a relief to 
come to something that she knew 
Just how to do, and had often 
done before. 

She was soon at her work, a 
nc-\t handkerchief doing duty as a 
bathing cloth. The sock was 
caTefulIy, tenderly drawn from 
the poor swollen loot — not with- 
out help from Wells' knife, for the 



Water Is real w -"uderful," said 
Christie. " Mother says that half 
the people in the world don't 
know what a splendid doctor it 
is. Sometimes she us- s it real 
hot, and it will stop a pain in a 
few minutes. Hot water would 
be good for your foot if we could 
get some. I wish we could, for I 
am most sure that it would make 
this swelling go down faster." 

" Wo might split some pieces 
ofT the side of the car, and 
start a fire. I could whittle fome 
ofT, maybe, or the old gentleman ' 
would. No, he can't leave his 
pitcher of milk. But the young 



man hasn't anything to do; we 
might try him. 1 have some 
n.>atches in my pocket." 

By this time he had to stop 
and laugh over the bewildered 
j look on the little nurse's face. 
I "I beg your pardon,' he said, 
] seeing the flushed cheeks. " I'm 
afraid it sounds like making fun 
of you, nnd that is the last thing 
i I am thinking of, I can tell \ou. 
, I wa.s only thinking thi t you had 
i done so many things to-day that 
sesmed impossible, perhaps you 
would manage a fire, to heat 
water. You can't think how 
I iiiee the cold water feels. I 
I hate to have you down there 
muscling over me. You are 
getting drops of water over 
your pretty dress, I'm afraid 
among u? we shall manage 
to spoil all your clothes. 
But my foot feels fifty per- 
cent better. I can tell you 
somebody who will be very 
much obliged to you for this 
morning's work, and that's 
my mamma." 

r^aid Christie, " Isn't it 
nice that the baby sleeps all 
this while ? If he should 
waken before I get your foot 
bandi:ged, 1 don't know 
what I should do !" 

The distressed tone of 
inotheily anxiety in which 
she said ttiis, set Weils off 
into another laugh. He 
thouubt her the strangest 
little girl he had ever seen in 
his hie. The truth was, that 
he was not acquainted with 
any liltl.' girls who knew 
how to do things which are 
supposed to belong to 
women. But Christie had 
been her mother's oldest 
daughter, and her only 
helper in the home foi so 
many years, that she had 
learned many things, and 
had a tashionof planning be- 
forehand, very much as her 
mother did. 

" Bandaged !" repeated 
Wells when his lauirh was 
over. " Why what will you 
bandage it with I I should 
say that was about as hard to 
m;inage as a lire." 

"Oh, no ! I didn't know 
what you meant about mak- 
ing a lire. I'm sure there is 
fire enough in th« stove ; if 
I could make a place on the 
stove to set this pail I could 
nave hot water ; but I really can't 
do that. ,\. bandage, though, from 
somewhere we must have. You 
see the foot must be banaged now 
that it has been v,-et ; mother 
thinks they swell more after wet- 
ting, unless they are bound up 
pretty I rht. I have one other 
handkerchief, but it is small ; 
still it would make a beginning, 
and I suppose you have one, and 
the old gentleman maybe has two, 
men often have ; I think wu can 
get enough to make quite a nice 
■andaire." 

■' Are vou really going through 
the car to take up a collection of 







C»4e 



18 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



handkerchiefs for my benefit !" 
Wells was so amused thitt he 
could hardly speak the words, 
bnt Christie looked x)0'''*)(^t'y 
sober, 

"Why HOt?' she said. "Any- 
body who had one would give it 
for such a thing, yon know. And 
it is really necessary. Mother 
was very particular about it when 
father had a sprain." 

" 'Well ! I suppose you will 
do it. I think you would do 
anything that it happened to 
come into your head ought to be 
done ; but I beg you to ask each 
of the contributors for their ad- 
drebses, for I shall want to ex- 
press a few handkerchiefs to them, 
if this train ever does reach the 
city." 

In due course of time Christie 
did just that thing. She went 
timidly over to the old gentle- 
man and told him her plan. She 
did not like to do it, but it seemed 
the next thing to be done, and as 
■he walked along, she remember- 
ed that she had not liked to do 
one oi the things that had come 
to her since she stopped the 
train ; yet they had all turned out 
well, so far. Even the china 
pitcher was doing its duty as 
nicely as though its owner had 
been willing to lend it. 

The old gentleman was delight- 
ful. Ho shook out two of the 
largest and finest cambric hand- 
kerchiefs that Christie had ever 
seen. It did seem a pity to tear 
them, bnt he gave them up as 
though it was a pleasure to him to 
think of their being torn in bits. 

The young man was equally 
ready, and more able, for he open- 
ed his case, and produced three 
or four, which Christie saw with 
joy, for she need not go to the 
owner of the pitcher. 

" How are yon going to fasten 
the pieces ?" he asked as he 
spread out the handkerchiefs and 
prepared to help tear them. " Pins 
will scratch, and besides wili not 
make a smooth bandage. Take 
care, you are getting that one too 
wide ; bandages are nuisances 
unless they fit nicely. What shall 
we do about the sewing? I sup- 
pose you haven't a workbox with 
yon? ' 

" Not quite," said Christie, 
laughing, amd feeling as though 
she were acquainted with him, 
'- but I hare something that will 
do to sew bandages. I had a 
necktio to hem for father, and I 
took it along for work to-day at 
my uncle's. The only trouble is 
it is black silk, and I ought to 
have white thread, but it will 
do." 

" Of course it will do," her new 
friend said heartily. Did you ever 
read fairy stories ? There is one 
about a little woman who had in 
her pocket, or in her month, or 
her shoes, somewhere about her, 
just the thing that wad wanted 
next. I didn't know that fairies 
travelled on the cars, but I 

8 believe you mnst be her coasin at 
least." 

•» 



" I wonder if yon should like does, for instance ; but suppose 



some help in putting this bandage 
on ? 1 have done such things 
before now, and I think perhaps 
my hands are a little 
than yours." 



you knew that her sister was very 
sick, and that she was anxious to 
get to her; if you could wouldn't 
stronger , you make this train go on as fast 
IIS possible, so as to give her a 



" Oh !" said Christie, relieved, ohance to get to the city ? 
and smiling, " I am so glad. I " Yes, sir," said Christie un- 
didn't know how it would get on, hesitatingly, "I would of 



I tried once to bandage father's 
foot, and I did not do it well at 
all ; but I thought I must do the 
best I could this time, and maybe 
it would last until he got to the 
city. Are you a doctor, sir ?" 

" Not quite ; I am only study- 
ing, with the hope of being one 
sometime. You did not know 
yon were a teacher as well as a 
fairy, did you ?" 

I ?" said Christie, looking 
greatly astonished, 



course. 

" Then you are better than 
God ? You see he doesn't do it." 

Christie considered this for a 
moment, then said : 

" But I might make a dreadful 
mistake. Perhaps two trains 
would run into each other, or it 
might be all wrong in some way. 
Yon see, God knows how to do 
things, audi don't." 

" Ah, bnt if you knew how to 
« T I. L _ i. I.- do things, yon could plan so that 
You. Ihave_been watchmg jt would be best. This is what 



you all the morning, and I con 
eluded just now, that it was time 
I Toosed myself and began to 
think of something besides my 
own great disappointment I sup- 
pose I shall reach the city just as 
soon if I help to bandage that foot 
as though I sat here and looked at 
my watch, and longed for the train 
to start." 

The sentence ended with a little 
sigh, and the anxious look came 
back to his pale face as he skil- 
fully rolled the bandage into a 
hard little ball. 

" I am very sorry for yon," said 
Christie gently ; " I do hupe you 
will get to the city in time ! and I 
can't help thinking that you 
will." 

There was such a confident 
little note in her voice that he 
glanced at her curiously 

" Do yonr fairy jiowers reach in 
that direction ?'' he asked, smil- 
ing just a little "Conid ^on 
wave yonr wand, do you think, 
and make this train start on its 
way ?" 

She shook her head, smiling, 
yet with a serious mouth 

" Nobody ever thought of such 
a thing as calling me a fairy ; I'm 
only Christie Tucker ; but I prsy. 
ed to God to let yon get fo the city 
as quick as he could, and to let 
yonr friend get well. And I can- 
not help thinking that he will do 
it. I know he will if it is best," 

" How did you find that out ?" 

" Why," said Christie, puzzled 
how to answer this, yet feeling 
that it ought to be answered, " of 
course He will. He said so, you 
know. Or, well, he said so about 
some people. Are not you one 
of them, sir ?" 

" One of whom?'' 

" One of the people who love 
God V Ho said he would make 
everything come just right to the 
people who love him. And he 
never breaks a promise, you 
know." 

" Look here, little woman that 
lady over there who is tearing a 
letter into bits, has not been very 
polite to you I have noticed, and I 
suppose she doesn't love you 
nearly as well as your mother 






you say God does for those who 
love Him, and I am showing you 
that you would do it for those 
who don't love yon, and are 
therefore making yourself out to 
be better than God. Don't yon 
see?" 

Christie looked distressed. 
What she saw, was, that this man 
needed to have somebody explain 
things to him. He did not disturb 
her faith, but how was she going 
to show him that God was good to 
all? 

She thought it over in silence, 
while he still rolled at the band- 
age, which showed a perverse 
desire to twist, and needed care 
from her watchful fingers all the 
time. 

At last she said timidly, " I 
know there is a way to explain, 
but 1 don't know how to do it. If 
you knew our minister, he could 
tell you. Don't you think, 
though, that some people won't let 
God do the best for them ? He 
wants them to choose to love 
him, and then he can take care 
of them and see that everjrthing 
comes out all right. Oar mmister 
told me about it. There was a 
little boy living at Mr. Briggs', 
that came all the way from the 
Home for LittleWahderersinNew 
York. Mr. Briggs tooV him to 
work on the farm. His name is 
Johnnie, and our minister said : 
'What if Jo'nnnie should run 
away, and refuse to live with Mr. 
Briggs, conld he be taken care of 
as he would have been if he had 
stayed with the man who had 
promised him a home ?' He said 
a great deal more, and made it 
real plain. Ifyon could talk with 
him, I know he conld make you 
understand ; bnt I am only a 
little girl." 

" You are a very good little 
girl," he said gently, " and 
whether I understand things as 
you do or not, I thank you for 
praying for me. That will not 
do me any harm, I am snre. 
Now we will go and see about 
fitting the bandage to that sick 
foot." 

(7b be continued.) 



THE GREAT ANT-EATER. 

Whatever else we may say for 
the Great Ant-eater, wo certainly 
cannot c.ill him handsome. The 
long snuut, and those prominent 
claws, art! dccidely ugly ; but ho 
would be sorry to part with them, 
for they help him to secure his 
food. Let us take n peep at him, 
not as he is at the Zoo, — as shown 
in our picture, — but in his native 
land. Far away in Brazil and in 
the swampy savannahs of Souih 
America the ant-eater is at home. 

What are these little mounds 
on the ground ? These are the 
lumuli eta the nouses of the white 
ants are called. Very well built 
and substantial residences they 
are. But that does not secure 
them from destruction by one 
scratch of the ant-eater's formida- 
ble claw. Then as the ants lun 
hithiTiind thither in dismay, they 
are quickly caught on the long 
tongue of their foe, and gobbled 
down, multitudes of them being 
eaten at one meal. Well, they 
can be easily spared, for they are 
most destructive little things. 

A gentleman once tamed a 
young female ant-eater, and 
taught it to eat meat and fish, 
which had to be chopped up very 
small, as ant-eaters have no teeth. 
It was an affectionate pet, and 
would run about after its master, 
or any one to whom she had taken 
a fancy, with its long nose close 
to the ground, so as to find them 
by the scent, for its sense of smell 
was remarkably strong, though 
the eyesight was weak. The poor 
little creature did not live to grow 
up. It always seemed bitterly 
cold, though it was kept wrapped 
np in a blanket; and at length it 
pined away and died. 



The Prater may be short, 
bnt if it come hot from the heart 
oi one in the thick of the battle; 
will it not reach the ear to which 
it is sent ? A few words — 
Lord save us ! we perish — roused 
up the Redeemer to save his dis- 
ciples from the devouring sea. 
Ah ! these prayers of men that 
struggle are dear to Him that 
hear them ; they consecrate a life, 
they make a man's heart a very 
church or temple in which wor- 
ship is continually offered. These 
are not days when the more use- 
ful minds can find leisure for 
much retirement and self-com- 
muning. But to carry the praying 
heart about with us into all that 
our hands find to do is the special 
need of our time. — Archbishop of 
York. 



To Delioht in giving nnto the 
Lord is as mnch to be cultivated 
as to delight in prayer or in speak- 
ing for Jesus in a season of 
revival, or in knowledge of the 
precions promise and truths of 
God or to be fervent in spirit, 
serving the Lord, — North Carolina 
Pretbylerian. 







r ANT-EATER 

le we may say for 
jater, wo certainly 
I handsome. The 
d those prominent 
ilely ugly ; but ho 
to part with them, 
[lim to secure his 
iko n peep at him, 
he Zoo, — as shown 
—but in his native 
ly in Brazil and in 
ivannahs of South 
iit-eater is at home, 
iicso little mounds 
? These are the 
ouses of the white 
Very well built 
al residences they 
t does not secure 
^struction by one 
ant-eater's formida- 
m as the ants run 
her in dismay, they 
lught on the long 
r foe, and gobbled 
ides of them being 
meal. Well, they 
spared, for they are 
re little things, 
an once tamed a 
B ant-eater, and 
eat meat and fish, 
)e chopped up very 
aters have no teeth. 
Hectionate pet, and 
»nt after its master, 
whom she had taken 
its long nose close 
, so as to find them 
for its sense of smell 
bly strong, though 
as weak. The poor 
did not live to grow 
ys seemed bitterly 
t was kept wrapped 
et; and at length it 
ad died. 



2; 



IR may be short, 

hot from the hear t 

thick of the battle; 

,ch tke ear k> which 

A few words — 

we perish — roused 

mor to save his dis- 

the devouring sea. 

■avers of men that 

dear to Him that 

ley consecrate a life, 

man's heart a very 

iple in which wor- 

ually offered. These 

when the more use- 

lu Hud leisure for 

nent and self-com- 

to carry the praying 

ith us into all that 

to do is the special 

time. — Archbiihop of 



T in giving unto the 
oh to be cultivated 
n prayer or in speak- 
iB in a season of 
knowledge of the 
mise and truths of 
le fervent in spirit, 
ord. — North Carolina 



4* 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



19 T 



CHRISTIE'S CHRISTMAS. 



CHAPTER Vn-Cmlinutd. 

Skilful fingers soon had the 
foot moro comlortable than it had 
been since the accident. Weils 
submitted to the new helper 
meekly, though he made a wry 
face at Christie behind the piece 
of handkerchief that was left 
from the bandage. 

" I don't know about liking that 
man," he said to Christie when 
the foot was nicely done up and 
resting on the cushions of the 
turned seat. " Ho might have 
walked up before and helped you 





IT 18 S.\RAH ANN !" 

with that baby. He must have 
seen that it was a tug for you." 

" Men don't know about 
babies," Christie answered 
gravely, " but I am ghid that he 
knows aboui-. handajjos. How 
nicely ho did that ! It looks just 
ns though a doctor had been here, 
Well, he is a doctor." 

" The mischief, he is ' Then I 
oui^ht to have offered to pay 
him." 

" Oh, no!" said Christie, dis- 
tressed, " I don't believe he would 
have liked that. Ho did it lor 
kiudnrss, not lor pay. He is very 
pleasant, but just as sad! He 
gives very long sighs, right in the 
midst of his talk. I am sorry for 
him ; sorrier than before he helped 
us." 

" Why ?" 

" Because I am afraid he 
doesn't believe in God. He is 
not one of Hod's people, I'm most 
sure : because thi^y never talk in 
that way, and it makes things a 
gri'at deal harder to bear." 

"Talk in what way ? How do 
yon tell people of that kind?" 

" Why, he almost iound fault 
with Ood ! Talk.'d as though he 
did not buliuvo that God woald 



do the best for everybody. And 
you know his children never say 
such things." 

" Don't they ? I'm sure I did 
not know it. I guess I am not 
acquainted with many of them. 
I'll tell you what it is, Christie, I 
have a brother whom I would 
like to have yon make understand 
things if you could. Ho is sick 
and lame, and will never beany 
better ; and he got so by helping 
somebody else : doing his duty, 
you know. It would be hard 
work for you to make him believe 
that things are just right in this 
world. He thinks it is awful that 
he doesn't get well. And I must 
say it seems most too bad. 
Ho was a splendid 
scholar, you see, led his 
class in college and was 
going to make a great 
man, people thought; 
now it is all spoiled, and 
he suffe.s all the time, 
and will have to, as long 
as he lives.'' 

" What hurt him ?" 
asked Christie, her eyes 
full of sympathy and sor- 
row. 

'" Why, a house wos 
burning, and he climbed 
a ladder when nobody 
else would, and went in- 
side and saved a little 
babv: and part of the 
wall fell on him and 
hurt his back. The 
doctor says he will never 
beany better." 

Christie's tears came 
outright now. 

"I'm so sorry for him!" 
she said ; " but if he only 
knew God, it would be a 
great deal easier to bear. 
What a long, long, 
morning it was! The 
baby had his nap out, 
and awoke and fretted a good deal, 
and cried outright for his mamma, 
and drank some more milk, and 
played with the old gentioman's 
gold headed cane, and went over 
to the pale-faced young man and 
was entertained for a while, and 
cried some more, and was given 
a cookie, and t>t last fell asleep 
again. And there that train stood 
immovable. It began to be 
certain now, and there was serious 
trouble. Word came, through 
railway men, that the track was 
injured a long distance ahead, and 
lor that reason no train could get 
from the city to relieve them. 

To add to the dreariness, it 
began to rai«i; a iii>rci», driving 
storm, and ofcourso tiie mud grew 
deeper every moment. 

"Dear, dear !'' said Christie "I 
hope they don't know about it at 
home. Mother will be so worried 
that she won't know what to do." 
" It's most a wonder that your 
people let you start out," said 
Wells. " I suppose the morning 
papers gave an account of the 
mischief done by the rain in the 
night : but our Iblks are all away, 
and I, like an idiot, never looked 
at a paper." 



Then Christie, her cheeks some- 
what red, explained that they did 
not take a daily paper, that father 
couldn't quite afford it yet, and so 
they had known nothing about 
trouble on the railway. 

" There is always some trouble 
with this road, "said Wells, feeling 
cross. " First it is a freshet, and 
then a landslide, or a washout, 
or the engine gives out, I don't 
know how many times we have 
been detained, but never so long 
as this. I should like to know 
what we are to do for some 
dinner ? I know I am as hungry 
as a wolf. I didn't eat much 
breakfast this morning ; it was so 
sort of stupid to be silting in that 
groat dining-room ail alone." 

It was after twelve o'clock 
when this remark was made. 
The patience of everybody in 
the car was exhausted, and Chris- 
tie was beginning to look anxious- 
ly at the dribble of milk left in the 
pitcher. What should she do if 
the train did not start soon, or the 
mother come ? 

" That doctor of yours will have 
to plunge through the mud and 
get us some more milk, or some- 
thing," said Wells at last, trying 
to raise himself on his elbow to 
get a view of the rainy world. 

"What object is that!" he said 
as he drew back his head. 
" Look, Christie, there are two of 
them, and they are dragging n 
basket between them that must 
be decidedly heavy. How are 
they ever going to get I'uioughthat 
puddle of water ? And where are 
they bound for, do you suppose?" 
Said Christie, "It is Sarah 
Ann !" 

CHAPTER Vni. 

Sure enough ! there she came, 
ploughing through the mud 
which had grown much deeper 
since morning. 

The large basket that she car- 
ried seemed to weigh her down, 
and she made slow progress. 

"Deal, dear!" baid Christie. 
" One of them ought to have had 
.Tosiah's hoots. Idon't know how 
they will ever manage to get 
through the puddles. Look, ftM 
baby ! If you were a man, yl/if 
you would go right out an^ 
try to help them, wouldn't 
you?" 

Nobody took this hint, and 
the two floundered along, and 
climbed the high step of the 
car platform ; then Sarah 
Ann set down her basket, 
and looked curiously in at the 
doo.'. 

"What do you want?" 
asked a brakesman who ap- 
peared just then, sticking his 
head out of the door. 

Surah Ann spoko up 
boldly : 

" We want the girl with the 
baby, who saved .Timmy 
from getting burned to death; 
mother sent her dinner, and 
some things for the rest, if 
she's a mind to give 'em to 
'em." 

This was bewildering news 



to the brakesman. He looked from 
the girl to the woman, with a 
puzzled face. He understood the 
word "dinner," and there was 
certainly a baby on the train ; but 
who was Jimmy, and when was 
he saved from burning to death ? 

However, Wells Burton under- 
stood, and came to the rescue : 

" It is all right, brakesman, sev- 
erol things have happened since 
you went for a walk. The party to 
whom that dinner belongs is here, 
and I'm inclined to think that a 
good many people who feel the 
pangs cf hunger, wish they were 
i'ribnds of hers." 

Such fun as it was to unpack 
that basket ! 

Christie did not know before 
that so many things could be 
crowded into a basket. Bread 
and butter, piles of it, a soup 
plate piled high with slices of 
ham, thin, and done to a crisp, 
and smelling, oh, so appetizing ! 
sheets of gingerbread, great 
squaresofcheese, a bowl of dough- 
nuts, another bowl of quince 
sauce, and a pail full of milk. 

"Mother said you could give 
some to anybody you pleased," 
explained Sarah Ann, who seemed 
to have recovered her spirits ; 
" she said father wouldn't grudge 
anything to the girl who saved 
Jimmy from gettinsj hurt. My ! 
but I was scared!" she added 
confidentially. " Whoso baby is 
that ? Isn't he your little brother? 
What makes him so good with 
you if he don't belong? Jimmy 
would yell awful if a strange girl 
took him. My sakes! I hope his 
mother will find him. Do you 
mean to keep him always if she 
doesn't, and bring him up for 
yours?" Wouldn't that bo funny, 
lor a little girl like you to adopt a 
baby ! Oh, wouldn't it ? " 

What a tongue Sarah Ann had ! 

Wells was laughing im- 
moderately, and [>retending that 
it was a violent cough, to save 
Sarah Ann's feelings, and no 
peony was ever so brilliant as 
Christie's cheeks. She tried 




THE OTHER OIRL PEEPTNO IN. 






!? 20 



REPRINTEli STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



-®(4i 



' to thank the girl for her kind' 
neBs, but no words seemed to 
oome at her call. However, Sarah 
Ann was toomach interested in ail 
that she saw around her, to mind 
whether she was thanked or not. 
She next gave attention to Wells. 

" Is that your brother ?" and 
then without waiting for an 
answer, " why didn't he come 
after the milk ? oh, my ! a sprain 
is a real mean thing, sometimes. 
Jed Barker sprained his foot, last 
summer, and he had to have it cut 
off." 

After this cheering 

bit o( news, the girl 
who had had her head 
in the oven when 
Christie was there, and 
who had been standing 
at one side of the door, 
peeping in in an abash- 
ed way, now found 
voice : 

" Sarah Ann, you'd 
ontrht to be ashamed ! 

Your ma toid you not 
to let your tongue get 
to running. Come out 
here, and lot her eat 
her dinner, and then 
you can get the dishes." 

"I ain't said noth- 
ing," declared Sarah 
Ann, looking aggriev- 
ed. 

However, she turned 
quickly and went out 
to the platform. 

" There's a rare 
specimen of a girl for 
you !" said Wells. 
'She's a genius, I 
should say. DoeH 
Jimmy look like her? 
If he does, I don't 
wonder that you saved 
his life." 

"I don't think she 
means to do anything 
wrong," said Christie, 
hesitatingly, " It is 
just because she doesn't 
know any better. It 
must have been very 
hard work to carry this 
basket througli the 
mud." 

"Wrong !" exclaimed 
Wells, " I should say 
not ! On the contrary 
she is the only one of 
this crowd, yourself 
excepted, who has done 
anything right since we 
started. Does your 
mother enjoy having 
you say, 'this crowd, 
when you mean half a 
dozen people ? Mine considers 
it slang, and I never say it any 
more, except on special occasions." 

" I never say it at all," answer- 
ed Christie lau-rliing. 

Daring this time she had been 
engaged in unpacking the basket, 
and now had the contents arrang- 
ed neatly on a large clean towel 
whicU she brought out of the 
ilowered carpet sack. How nice 
it was that mother had wrapped 
the cookies first in a towel! 
What would she think ifsheknew 



it was doing duty as a tablecloth, 
and that her Christie was serving 
dinner for half a dozen hungry 
strangers ! 

I don't suppose that bread and 
butter and ham ever tasted better. 
The old gentleman declared that 
he was sure there never was any 
so good before, and the pale 
young man ate quite a large piece 
of bread, and smiled in gratitude ; 
and beveral men, who with 
gloomy faces, and hands in their 
pockets, strayed in from the 



person aa she never eats anything 
more solid than a bit of ice-cream, 
and a little pound cake, you may 
be sure." 

But Christie did not laugh. In- 
stead, she looked troubled, and af- 
ter a while thoughtfully laid aside 
a delicate bit of ham, and a thin 
slice of bread and butter. Diving 
down into her satchel again, she 
brought ojit a piece of an old 
tablecloth, beautifully clean and 
white ; the seed cakes for uncle 
Daniel's baby had been wrapped 




CHINESE SWALLOWS. 




different cars, accepted Christie's 
off'er of a ham sandwich with sur- 
prise and thanks. 

" Would you oiler some to the 
lady V Christie asked in a 
whisper of Wells, glancing doubt- 
fully in her direction. 

" What ! the Seiuide Library 



in it. On this white cloth she 
laid the bread and butter, two of 
the seed cakes, a delicate piece of 
gingerbread, and a fragment of 
cheese. 

"I'm going to carry these to 
her," she said to Wells, inclining 
her head as she spoke in the 



creitture ? I beg that you will direction of the lady, 



not misuse language so badly as 
to call her a lady. I should say 
that 1 wouldn't do any such thing. 
You would probably get refused 
for your pains. Such a delicate 



Rhe won't take them." 
"I can't help it. I shall feel 
ashamed of myself if I don't offer 
them, and I don't like to feel 
ashamed of myself," 



'* There is something in that," 
Wella said, laughing, yet with a 
look in his eyes, that said he was 
proud of Christie. " Go ahead ; 
I'll keep watch and be ready to dpe- 
fend yon,if she is inclined to bite." 

(To be ennUnued.) 

BIRD'S NEST SOUP. 

Every one has heard of the 
famous bird's nest soup, which is 
known to be such a luxury among 
the Chinese. We give here a 
very clear picture of 
the birds which build 
the nests and the nests 
themselves. The birds, 
you will see, are species 
of swallow. They in- 
habit the coast of China 
and neighboring coun- 
tries and build their 
nests on the walls of 
the caves along the 
shore, sticking them 
against the fiat wall in 
precisely the same way 
as our chimney swal- 
lows do. The nests 
are about the size of a 
goose egg and resem- 
ble isinglass. For a long 
time people did not 
know how these were 
built. One theory was 
that the bird made 
them from a kind of 
seaweed upon which it 
fed. Butthey feed upon 
insects just as other 
birds do. They have 
however, a set of 
glands corresponding 
to the salivary glands 
at the side of the 
mouth, and these 
secrete the gelatinous 
material used by the 
birds in building their 
nests. 

The nests when 

brought to market are 

of three qualities. The 

new nests, in which no 

young ones have been 

reared, looking clear 

like pure gelatine and 

almost white, the 

second quality of a 

dincy, brown color and 

looking generally dirty, 

and the third those in 

which little ones have 

been reared and 

all stuck over with 

feathers and covered 

with filth of all sorts. 

The soup in which the 

nests are used has 

a gelatinous look and feeling, 

somewhat like diluted jelly, and 

is considered by the Chinese a 

very great dainty. Of coiirso the 

best soup is made from the nests 

of the hrst quality, but we Ifiir 

that in this, as in other thincfs, the 

second and third qualities are not 

entirely ignored. 



01 



The Lord is the strength of my 
life ; of whom shall I be afraid ? — 
Psa. 27: 1. 

^ 



MV 







thing in that," 
ig, yet with a 
at said he was 
"Qo ahead ; 
be ready to de- 
clined to bite." 

linued.) 

T SOUP. 

heard of the 
ionp, which is 
.Inzary amon^ 
I givo hero a 
ar picture of 
B which build 
and the nests 
■es. The birds, 
see, are ppecies 
iw. They in- 
! coast of China 
hboring couu- 
d build their 

the walls of 
!8 along the 
iticking them 
be flat wall in 
' the same wa; 
:himney swi 
>. The nests 
t the size of a 
fg and resem- 
lass. For a long 
ople did not 
)W these were 
)ne theory was 
e bird made 
om a kind of 
upon which it 
;they feed upon 
just as other 
3. They have 
', a set of 
corresponding 
alirary glands 
side of the 

and these 
the gelatinous 

used by the 
building their 



way 
ival- 



n 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THK ' NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



nests when 

to market are 

{ualitius. The 

, in which no 

nes have been 

looking clear 

gelatine and 

white, the 

quality of a 

own color and 

eneraily dirty, 

bird those in 

ttle ones have 

reared and 

over with 

and covered 

h of all sorts. 

in which the 

used has 

and feeling, 

itcd jolly, and 

10 Chiiit'se a 

Of courso the 

rom the lu'sts 

but Wd li'ar 

ler ihinirs, the 

lalities are not 



itrengthof my 
I be airaid ? — 



CHRISTIE'S CHRISTMAS. 




CHAPTER Vlll-Continufd. 

And Christie went. She had 
done her best, t :id the food 
certainly did not look uninviting, 
but the lady had worked herself 
by this time ip' such a state of 
disgust, that ink it would 

have been ver. rd for her to be 
good. 

She gave one disdainful glance 
at the ragged edges of the piece 
of table cloth, then shook her 
head : " No, thank you. I am 
not reduced to that state yet." 

Then, seeing the flaming color 
in Christie's* cheeks, she seemed 
to struggle to make herself be- 
have better. 

" I'm not afraid of you, child," 
she said, "yoit-look noat, I am 
sure ; bat alter seeing the hands 
and hair of the girl who brought 
the basket, I could not eat a 
mouthful." 

Not a word said Christie. She 
carried her bit of tablecloth back, 
and laid it on the seal, covering 
the food irora the dust ; her eyes, 
meantime, swimming with tears. 

" How long does it take people 
to starve?" Wells asked fiercely 
of the old gentleman who was in 
the act of oiting a huge piece of 
ham. 

Evidently he understood Wells' 
meaning, and smiled. But Chris- 
tie could not smile. 

Baby, meantime, was in rol- 
licking humor. Apparently he 
had resolved that his mother was 
not worthy of any more tears, or 
frettings, and he kept one pretty 
arm around Christie's neck, and 
ate seed cakes, and drank milk, 
with delight 

On the whole, it was a very 
nice dinner, and the different 
people who came from the other 
car, and shared it, all agreed that 
■'Sarah Ann" ought to have a 
vote of thanks. 

" I'll tell you what will be better 
than that," said the old gentle- 
man, pnting his hand into his 
iwcket; "at least we can add it 
to the thanks, and make her 
happy. Let us take up a nice 
little collection for her to get her- 
self a pair of rubber boots to climb 
through the mud in," and he 
dropped a shining gold bit into 
Christie's hand. 

" And a comb to comb her hair 
with," added Wells as he laid aj 
silver dollar beside the gold 
piece; "you advise her to l>ny 
one, Christie, that's a good girl." 

The rough-looking men seemed 
equally pleased with the idea, and 
dropped their fifty cent pieces 
into the eager little hand, and 
the pale young man actually 
added another gold piece. 

I wish you could have seen 
Christie's eyes, as her hand began 
to grow full ! It seemed to her 
that she was never so hap^>y in 
her life. It was so splendid to 
;iye people things ; she had never 
lad that pleasure before. 

" I haven't any money," she 

1^ 



said softly to Wells, " but I am so 
glad that the rest of you have ; 
and it is so nice in you to let me 
give it to her. Just think what a 
lot of nice things it will buy her ! 
I know they are poor by the looks 
of the kitchen. I think it was 
real good in them to send us 
dinner." 

" So it was ; and it was real 
good of the woman to be such an 
excellent cook. I haven't had a 
better dinner in a long time ; hut 
I say, Christie, what are you 
saving that choice bit in the cloth 
for? You don't mean to relent 
and let the baby have it after 
all!" 

" No ;" said Christie laughing, 
" baby must be content with seed 
cakes, and milk ; I know his 
mamma does not let him eat ham, 
and I am not going to ran the 
risk ; but I thought I would keep 
that, for a little while." 

The remainder of the milk had 
been carefully poured into what 
Wells called " the company 
pitcher," to be kept for baby ; 
and Christie went with basket 
and money out to Sarah Ann on 
the platform. 

Just as she came back with her 
eyes full of the story of the girl's 
dumb surprise, a lady was open- 
ing the opposite door and coming 
down the aisle. A middle-aged 
lady, elegantly dressed, and with 
a placid smile on her face. 

" I thought I must come and 
look after the little fairy who so 
kindly famished us with a 
dinner," she said brightly. " Is 
this the one ? My child, you did 
not know I had some of your 
dinner, did you ? but that patient 
brakesman out there, shared his 
slice of bread and ham with me, 
and told me the whole story. I 
want to see the baby. If I had 
heard of him before, I should 
have come and tried to help. 
Yes ; I have been sitting in that 
Doxt ear all the time ; but I was 
t!0 stupid as to go to sleep and lose 
most of the excitements. Why, 
Wells Burton! I wonder if you 
are hero ?" 

" Yos'm ;" said .Wells briskly, 

I'm hero, Mrs. Havihiud ; but I 
did not know that you were." 
Did you go to sleep before the 
accident and the stopping of the 
train ?" 

"No, indi'cd ! I stayed awake 
for that excitement, and heard all 
about it, and the forethought 
of this little woman, but you see 
I did not know it was you, and 
there seemed to be so many 
crowding in, and nothing to do 
but stare, that I thought I 
wouldn't join them. And so it 
was you who were hurt? My 
dear boy, how distressed your 
mother must be !" exclaimed Mrs. 
Haviland, bending over him 
pityingly. " Where is she, and 
all the rest of them, and how is it 
that you are spending Christmas 
day on the cars ?" 

'There seemed no end to the 
questions that the handsome lady 
had to ask Christie meantime, 



was engaged in watching the 
" Seaside library woman," as I 
am afraid that the lady will have 
to be called for the rest of the 
story. The moment (hat the 
stranger had ezclamed: 

"Why. Wells Burton !" the lady 
had given a sudden surprised 
start, and her lace had flashed 
deeply. At least she knew the 
name, if she did not the 
boy, and for some reason, the 
knowledge seemed to disturb her. 
Just than the stranger turned 
in her direction, and bowed 
slightly as some people do when 
they know persons a little bit, 
and do not care to know them 
any better. 

Wells noticed the bow, and 
was ready with questions. 

" Mrs. Haviland, I wonder if 
you are acquainted with that 
creature. Who is she ?" 

" My dear boy, have yon been 
travelling with her all day, with- 
out knowing who she is ? Did 
you ever hear of a person by the 
name of Henrietta Westville ?" 

" I should think I had ! You 
don't say that she is the one ! 
" That is her name, my boy." 
" Well ! I wonder that I had 
not thought of it for myself. 
The name fits her character pre- 
cisely, of all the cantankerous, 
disgusting creatures that I ever 
saw, she" — 

" Softly, softly, my dear Wells, 
what would ' moiJier' say to such 
language as that ?" 

" I don't care," declared Wells, 
" the language doesn't begin with 
the subject. Mamma is rea- 
sonable. She knows that a fellow 
has to boil over once in a while. 
Why, Mrs. Haviland, you never 
heard the like of the way in which 
she has conducted herself to-day." 
And then Wells launched out 
in a description of the conduct of 
the "Seaside library creature," and 
Christie took the sleeply baby to a 
seat on the other side of the car 
to coo him to sleep, and to 
wonder who this lady was, and 
why Wells cared because the 
young woman was named 
Henrietta Westville, and what he 
was telling the stranger about 
herself, for at this moment she 
overheard her own name. 

CHAPTER IX. 

The baby went to sleep, and 
the strange lady continued talk- 
ing with Wells. So Christie, feel- 
ing a little lonely after so much 
excitement, looked about her for 
amusement, and discovered that 
the nice old gentlemam was 
motioning to her. 

"Come and take care of me 
a while, little woman," he said, 
making room for her. " Between 
us we can catch the baby before 
he makes up his mind to roll 
away. You must be tired look- 
ing after him. I wish his mother 
knew what good care he had." 

" I am used to it," exclaimed 
Christie. " I take a great deal of 
care of our baby ; but I am sorry 
for his mother r 






Christie meant the mother of 
the baby on the i-ars, not the baby 
at home. 

The old gentleman understood 
her. 

"It is a bad busineso, he said 
cheerly ; " but not so bad but it 
might have been worse. Suppose, 
for instance, you had not been on 
the cars, what would baby have 
done then ? Forthat matter,whaf 
would any of us have done with- 
out oar dinner ? That was an 
excellent dinner you got up for us. 

ow have you enjoyed the day, 
on the whole ?" 

" Why," said Christie laughing, 
" I haven't had time to think. It 
isn't a bit such a day as I had 
planned." 

" I imagine not. Mine isn't, I ' 
know. Let us hear what you had 
planned, and see if your ex- 
pectations were any like mine." 

"Oh, no!" said Christie; 
"they couldn't be! Why, in the 
first place, I was to take my first 
ride on the cars. Well, I have 
done that, though we didn't ride 
very far before We stopped." 

" Just so ; and we seem to find 
it hard work to get on again. I 
wonder if this is your first ride ! 
Well, well ! you will not be likely 
to forget it, will you? And 
where were you going?" 

" Why, I expected to spend all 
this day at my uncle Daniel's in 
the city! I have never been 
there, you know, and he lives in 
a nice house, and has a great 
many things that I wanted to 
see." 

" Do you mind telling me the 
thing that you wanted to see the 
most ?" 

A shy little blush came into 
Christie's face, and she droope'd 
her head. 

" It was very silly, I suppose, 
but I wanted to see the carpet in 
the parlor. It is what they call 
Brussels, and has ferns all oyer it, 
so natural that mother says you 
could most pick them ; and some 
berries like what mother lised to 
gather in the woods where she 
lived, away off East. I never saw 
such a carpet, rmd I can't think 
what it would be like. It doesn't 
seem to me that they could make 
natural-looking ferns out of 
threads of v/ool ; and I wanted to 
see if I should think so. Then ' 
she has pretty furniture in her 
room, all painted in flowers — 
roses, you know — and pansies, 
and oh ! a great many flowers and 
vines, just lovely ! I never saw 
anything like that, either; and I- 
couldn't think how they would 
look." 

The old gentleman got out his 
only remaining handkerchief,' 
and drew it across his mouth, to 
hide hiu smile that he did hot 
want Christie to see; and then 
drew it across his eyes, for sc>me- 
thing in her voice seemed to 
make the tears start. 

" I understand," he said, his 
voice full of kindly sympathy ; 
" and so these were the things 
that you most wanted to see ?" 






AH^ 



U 



22 



REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THE " NORTH KRN MESSENGER.' 



1 
A 



" No, «ir," said Christie ; " not 
quite. I thought a good deal 
about them; but there was one 
thing that I thought I should look 
at more than anything else, and 
mav be touch." 

There was a curious little note 
of awe in her voice as she said 
these last words that made her 
listener bend his head curiously, 
and question iu tones of deepest 
interest : 

" What was that ?" 

" A piano." 

She spoke the words almost 
under her breath. 

" My dear child ! did you 
never see a piano?" 

"Oh, no, sir. My mother 
has, often. She used to play 
on one when she was a girl, 
and she has told mo about 
it often and often. 1 think I 
know just how it looks. I 
can shut my eyes and see it; 
and I on think a little how 
it sounds ; at least, it suems 
as though I could. It isn't 
like the carpet. I can't im- 
gine that; but the music is 
easier. Father has a flute. We 
have a carpet, oi course." she 
added, drawing herself up 
with a bit of womanly 
dignity, *' but it is made of 
rags, and looks very diii'ereut 
from lirussels, mother says. 
And I can't imagine a very 
great difTerence in carpets; 
but I can imagme things 
about music, you know." 

" I know," nodde I the old 
gentlcm in ; and he thought 
to himself that lie knew 
several things which she 
didn't. 

After a little ho sai I : 

" And so you are missing 
all these wonders ; but a 
good many interesting 
things have happened, I 
should think ?" 

Then did Christie's eyes 
sparkle. 

" I should think there 
had!" she said. "I was 
thinking just a little while 
ago that I should have 
enough to tell mother and 
father and Karl all the rest 
of the winter. Wo have 
only a few books and wo 
have to tell things to each 
other, instead of reading. 
Father said I was to keep my 
eyes open to-day, and I guess he 
will think I have." 

This last she said with a happy 
little laugh. 

" I gui.'ss ho will," declared the 
old gentleman, "Mid I hope he 
will understand to what (rood 
purpose you have done it. What 
(lid you expect to see in the city 
that would interest you? ' 

"Oh, I didn't know. A very 
great many things. I suppose ; 
but I coulf'n t imagine them. 
Only one : Ono day father, when 
he was ill (ho city, saw (he 
Oovcrnor of (ho Stale ; you know 
ho lives there. And to go tu 
uncle Daniel's, wo ride past his 
house ; and I thought, may be, he 



might be in the door, as he was 
when father went by, and I 
would see him. Father says he 
is a splendid-looking man, and he 
is a grand temperance man, you 
know, and I wanted just to have 
a glimpse of him ; but I don't 
suppose I shall." 

Then the old gentleman took 
out his handkerchief and used it 
vigorously on nose, and eyes and 
even mouth. 

"He isn't at home to-day," he 
said at last. 

" Isn't he ?" 

There was real disappointment 



in Christie's voice. It was 
evident that she had not quite 
given up her glimpse of the 
Governor. 

"No; but you needn't care 
now, after having had such a nice 
chance to look at him, and even 
talk with him." 

You should have seen Christie's 
face then. For a moment she 
was quite pale with bewilder- 
ment. 

" 1 don't understand you." she 
said timidly, and iu her heart she 
wondered whether the nice old 
gentleman was a little crazy. 



I 




THE FRIKND AT MIDNir.HT ] 

OB, THE UEWARD Or IMPOBTUKIIT. 



(Luke xi. 0-13 ) 

At midnight to Ilia sleeping friend 
Hu tiirttp, ami knoclcinL; at the door, 

Iluhcgg aij<l )>ra)8 that ho will lend 
Threa luave« to liim from out his store. 

■' For at my gate e'en now there stands 
A friend of mine, nil travel-worn 

And unexpected, who demands 
Comfort and food hefoie the mom." 

Llis lialf-waked friend, within, replies 
"Trouhlo nie not, my door U barr'd, 

lly children pleip, I cannot rise." 
Buvh his refusal cold and hard. 

But he, without, quits not the door : 
Mt)rui*lronply prPKsiny hin riMjuest, 

He knocks still louder tlian Itefure, 
And gives his churlish friend no reet ; 

Till, through the window, from iihovo. 
The liiaveii are granted to his pUa, 

Orf iKingly ttranted — not (or love, 
But fur hi« importunity. 



We have a Friend, who slumbers not. 
To all our needs and cares awake ; 

At midnight dark, or noonday hot, 
To Him our sorrows we may take. 

Whene'er wo humbly aik He hears. 
Or earnest seek, lie marks our cry. 

And when wo knock witli sobs and tears, 
He opens to us instantly. 

The bar of sin, which closed the door, 
Himself has taken clean away ; 

The gate flies open ever more 
To all who trust iu Him and pray. 

In every pressino wan or woe, 
Which weighs on us, or those we love, 

To our true Friend, O let us go, 
And Ue will help us from above. 

lie is not troubled with our prayer, 
Or weary of our urgent plea : 

He bids us cast on him our care. 
Ue loves our importunity I 

Richard Wiltok. 



" Why, my dear child, it is a 
good while since morning, I 
know, but my memory is good, 
and I distinctly remember seeing 
you sit up straight in that seat 
over there beside the Governor 
of the State, and heard him talk- 
ing to you in what seemed to be a 
very interesting way," 

Christie sat up straight now, her 
eyes glowing like two stars, her 
small hands clasped together, and 
her voice with such a ring of 
wondering delight in it that Wells 
stopped in the middle ^f his 
sentence to look over at her, 
" Really ond truly ?" 
That was all she said, 
" Really and truly, I saw 
it with my own eyes. And 
a grand man he is; worth 
knowing." 

N'lt another word scid 
Christie for the space of two 
minutes. Then slie drew a 
long, fluttering sigh of 
delight, and murmured : 
" What a thing to tell father 
and mother and Karl." 

" You like to see people of 
importance, do you ?" tho 
old gentleman asked, after 
watching her face in amused 
silence for a few minutes. 

" Oh, 60 very much ! 
People who are grand, and 
splendid, a id worth know- 
ing." 

Then I suppose you would 
have been interested in one 
of the Governor's children, 
for instance, even if you did 
not know the boy ; just lor 
the sake of his father ?" 

"Yes. indeed, I should. 
Bui he didn't have any boy 
with him this morning." 

"No; I was thinking of 
myself, and of my father, and 
wondering whether yon 
would not bo interested iu 
me for his sake." 

Christie thought to herself 
that she was interested in 
him fur his own sake, but 
she did not like to say this, 
so she waited expectantly 
for what would come next. 
"Tho truth is, I belong to 
a very noble family : old and 
grand iu every wcy. It 
would bo impossible to get 
any higher in rank than my 
brother is." 
Christie heard this with 
wondering awe, and looked 
timidly into the pleasant face 
beaming on her. She saidtoher- 
selfthrtt she had thought all tho 
time there was something per- 
fectly splendid about him. but it 
had not occured to her that ho 
belonged to such very grand 
people. 

{To be cnnlinued.) 



GoDT,iNi!ss consists not in a 
heart to intend to do the will of 
God. but iu a heart to do it. — 
Junalhun Edwards, 

Live in (ho present, (hat you 
may be ready for the future. 
Charles Kings/ey 



t 



-®H9 



dear child, it is a 

siiico morning, I 
y memory is good, 
\y remember seeing 
traight in that seat 
esido the Governor 
ind heard him talk- 
what seemed to bo a 
ng way." 
up straight now, her 

like two stars, her 
lasped together, and 
ith such a ring of 
Jightia it that Wells 
the middle 6i his 
lok over at her. 
ly and truly ?" 
vas all &ho said, 
ly and truly. I saw 
ny own eyes. And 

man he is; worth 

[mother word enid 
lor the space of two 
. Then she drew a 
(luttering sigh ol 

and mnrumred : 
\ thing to tell father 
her and Karl."' 
like to soe people of 
lice, do you ?" the 
tleman asked, after 
g her face in amused 
lor a few minutes. 

60 very much ! 
who are grand, and 
I, a id worth know- 

I suppose you would 
!en interested in one 
Ltovernor's children, 
mce, even if you did 
5W the boy ; just lor 
I of his father '?" 
, indeed, I should, 
didn't have any boy 
m this morning." 

I was thinking of 
ind of my father, and 
nir whether you 
not be interested in 
lis sake." 

tie thought to herself 

was interested in 

his own sake, but 

not like to say thiB, 

waited expectantly 

t would como next. 

truth is, I belong to 

oble family : old and 

in every wcy. It 

>o impossible to get 

her in rank than my 

is." 

heard this with 

awe, and looked 

the pleasant face 

ler. She said to her- 

had thought all the 

was something per- 

id about him, but it 

red to her that ho 

such very grand 

>e cnnlinued.) 




IIEPRINTFD STOUIK.S. KHOM TUK •' NOHTHKIIN MKSSENtJKR." 



consists not in a 
nd to do the will of 
n heart to do it. — 

nurds, 

10 present, that yon 
ly for the future.— 
uley 



CHRISTIE'S CHRISTMAS. 

BY PAN8T. 
CHAPTER IX-CoiKinwd. 

" My brother is a king," he said, 
Btill smiling. Then Christie's 
heart began to beat loud and fast. 
A king ! What a wonderful ex- 
perience was this ! She, Christie 
Tucker, talking with the brother 
of a king! In wnat country, she 
wondered ? And oh, what 
wonderful stories he could tell 
her if she only dared ask ! Why 
didn't ho wear something that 
would show his rank ? She 
thought they always did. She was 
burning with eagerness to have 
him go on, yet dared not question. 

" Are you surprised ?" ne asked 
her, and then the next thing he 
said almost took away her 
breath. 

"Do you know I believe yon 
are a relation of mine ? I have 
been watching you all day, and I 
see a strong likeness to 
onr family. There are 
certain thmgs about ns 
which are very much 
alike, and as we are 
scattered all over the 
world I often find 
relatives. I believe you 
are one. In iiict, anless 
I am very much mis- 
taken, you are a little 
sister of the King. Do 
yon know what I mean; 
and isn't it so?" 

Down went Christie's 
head, drooping lower 
and lower, until her 
face was buried in her 
two hands and she was 
wiping away the tears. 
Wells stopped again, 
and looked over some- 
what fiercely at her 
companion, but the face 
that was raised in a 
moment was bright 
with smiles. Christie 
understood. ' • 

"I didn't, at first," 
she said ; " but now 
I do. Oh, you mean King 
Jesos! Yes, sir, I belong. 
I thought yon truly meant that 
you had a brother who was a 
king." 

"And I certainly truly mean 
it, and glory in it, as I could not 
in anything else. Yon cannot 
think how pleased I have been to 
find a new little sister, and to see 
that she was copying my elder 
brother so faithfully, that she be- 
gan to look like Him. It is all 
very well to be a governor, and I 
am proud ot our ^od one ; but 
after all, what is he compared 
to the King whose subjects we 
are ? Did you ever think, my 
dear, how many relatives we have 
whom we have never met? What 
a wonderful getting acquainted 
there will be when we all meet 
in the palace !" 

' I never thought of it in that 
way,'" said Christie; "It is 
beautiful." 

" Then there is another thing : 



the family resemblance issostrik- 
ingthatil you watch lonir enough, 
you are almost sure to loam who 
belong to it. Do you think that 
pale young man is a member of 
our family?" 

Christie looked over at him 
thoughtfully, then shook her 
head. 

"No, sir, I don't think he i.s. 
Why, from some things he has 
said, 1 know he isn't." 

" Poor man ! Do you suppose 
he has been invited to join us ?" 

" Why, yes, sir, I suppose so a 
good many times." 

" And has refused ! That is 
strange, isn't it ? Look here, he 
will accept somebody's invitation, 
won't he, if he ever gets home to 
the King's palace ? What if it 
should be yours ? That would be 
a thing to tell the King, some day, 
wouldn't it?" 

Christie's face glowed, but she 
made no answer. 

" Then there is that handsome 



failed of ever making His ac- 
quaintance." 

Whereupon the baby awoke, 
and Christie went with haste to 
save his precious head from the 
bumping thathe seemed determin- 
ed to give it; but she could not 
get away from the words of her 
old new friend. 

What if she ought to invite the 
pale young man, and the dis- 
agreeable young lady, to join the 
family circle ? She did not mind 
talking with Well8,now, but these 
others were different. 

By and by Mrs. Haviland bade 
Wells good-by, and went back to 
her car, and he motioned Christie 
to his side. 

" I've discovered something 
about my fine lady," he said, a 
fierce look in hiseyes; "I'll tell you 
about it, and you will see that it 
is not strange that she is so hate- 
ful ; it belongs to her nature. You 
know I was telling you of my sick 
brother? Well, before he was 



23 Y 




—ap*^. ^ ,. -.Ki^ 



UNCLE DANIEL'S HOUSE, 



r. -S«H"fc'iT:>- 



^»_, .73, v-^ , ., 



very cross and ugly, and they 
can t seem to help it. One time 
when Karl was sick, and I was 
afraid he was going to die, I felt 
cross all the time. Maybe she 
likes your brother very much, and 
feels eo sorry for what she has 
done, that she cannot be good and 
happy." 

" She may be as good as she 
likes," Wells siid, sourly, "but I 
am sure she deserves never to be 
happy again." 

"She must be very hungry," 
said Christie thought luUy. " By 
and by I mean to otfer her a seed 
cake. The dirty-faced little girl 
had nothing to do with that, mid 
I know it is clean ; maybe she can 
eat it." 

"You're a queer party," Wells 
said. "Ifl had been treated once as 
you have, 1 think I should dislike 
her enough to keep my distance." 
" Oh, it isn't that ! I suppose I 
dislike her — well, a good deal. 
But I want to get over it, and 
what you told me helps 
me to. I want to feel 
sorry for her, and ask 
her to be a Christian. 
You see she isn't a 
Christian, and that 
makes all the trouble. 
If she would get right 
about that, it would 
make everything else 
straight. Anyway, I 
onght to invito rher, be- 
cause Jesus told me to, 
Tou know ; andif >give 
her a seed cake, maybe 
I can do if better." 

" Humph !" said 
Wells, twisting liim- 
self around until he 
hurt his foot, and made 
deep frowns come on 
his forehead. 

He really did not 
know what to think of 
Christie. 



.-.-■.T 



CHAPTER X. 



boy. I have been thinking about 
him. I am not sure, but am al- 
most afraid that be does not belong, 
either." 

" No, sir," said Christie, " he 
doesn't." 

" There is certainly a great deal 
for you and me to do right in this 
car," the old gentleman said, and 
added, "what about the young 
lady ; is she acquainted with Him, 
do you think?" 

" No, indeed," said Christie, a 
touch of scorn in her voice. " It 
is easy enough to see that. I think 
she shows it all the time." 

" Ah, I don't know ! Hare yon 
never disguised yourself for a 
whole day so that nobody would 
have imagined that yon were a 
member of the royal family ?" 

" Yes, sir," said Christie 
irnmbly, "I have." 

" Still, I am afraid, as you sar, 
that she does not know Him. It 
would be dreadful if, through any 
neglect of yours or mine she. 



injured, he was engaged to that 
very hateful young woman over 
there. Isn't that horrid ? After 
the fire, and it was found that he 
would be a cripple all his life, 
what did she do but write that she 
was sorry for him, but she never 
could think of marrying a crip- 
ple. " Yes," he said in an answer 
to Christie's look of horror, " she 
did just that Why my brother 
cared, is more than 1 can imagine ; 
but he did: it made him sick 
again, and he has never been so 
well, and . never will be. 
I never saw her before, 
and don't want to agrin, I have 
heard enough abont her, and I 
am sure her actions all match." 

But this story had a very 
different effect on Christie from 
what Wells had supposed. 

" I am sorry for her now," she 
said. " I think, maybe, she feels 
unhappy all the time, and that 
makes her cross. When things 
goal) wrong, it makes some people 



®HSPW»- 



Little by little that 
weary afternoon wore 
away. The rain fell 
steadily, and the mud grew deep- 
er every minute ; and the 
grumblings of some of Ibe people 
grew louder, thongh all the while 
their courage was kept up by 
having an official appear 
occasionally, to say that he 
" guessed they would get on now, 
pretty soon."" Baby waked, and 
frolicked, and fretted, and drank 
milk, and was trotted, and carried, 
and petted, as well as Christie and 
the old gentleman could manage 
it ; and Ihe swollen foot was 
bathed, and all the seed cakes 
wereeaten, and the the paleyoung 
man walked miles, just going up 
and down the car, " like a caged 
lion," Wells said. 

Christie pitied him so much, 
that she went over to him at last 
as he stood by the further door o'' 
the car, and said timidly : " 1 
think, sir, if yon would make up 
your mind to pray to God, you 
would feel so much better ! He 
can make it all come out right, j, 

«C4S 



S\ 



* » Ton 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MES SENGER." 



yon now, even now. Why won't 
yon aak him ">" 

The young mBU turned toward 
her a (feapairing face "If your 
inother chould die to-day, while 
you are sitting hero in a mud hole, 
waiting to get out, would it be 
all right?" he asked. 

" I nave asked him to take care 
of her," said Christie, with quiver- 
ing lip, " and I mean to trust 
him; I know he can do it. and I 
know he will, if it is the best 
thing Perhaps the lady that you 
want to get to, ib better now." 

"Perhaps my staying here in the 
inud all day helped to make her 
better" 

He said this with a very 
sarcastic tone, but Christie who 
was busy wiping her eyes, did 
hot look at him just then, and 
answered himgravtily; "Yes, sir, 
perhaps so. Uo<l could make 
even that help, and I cannot keep 
from thinking that he has made it 
all right. I have prayed about it 
i good deal, and I feel just as I 
dlways do, when things come 
right. I wish you would pray, 
di'ur sir." 

In spite of himself, a tender 
smile stole ever the sad face, and 
he looked down on her. *' How 
could my staying here possibly 
help anybody?" he asked, but his 
voice was more gentle. 

"'Oh, I don't know how," said 
Christie. "God does not tell his 
".hows," you know ; ho just does 
them." 

" Well," he said, after another 
thoughtful pause, " I'll toll you 
one. thing, little woman, I am very 
much obliged to you for trying to 
help and comfort me. I shall not 
(orget it. I want you to give me 
your address, and if things have 
all come out right, as you say, I 
will write you a letter ; and if our 
sticking in the mud for a dozen 
hours can be found to have help- 
ed any thing along, I will be sure 
to tell you." 

^/' Thank you, sir," said Christie. 
"And will you pray about it ?" 

" All, that I don't know. " 

So after all, the " little woman" 
turned avray sorrowfully. She 
wanted to givo the invitation, but 
she was not sure that she had. 

While the old gentleman was 
entertaining baby with his gold- 
headed cane, she took out the two 
seedcakes which she had carefully 
wrapped by themselves in the bit 
of towel and went over to the 
young lady, who had her face 
turned to the window, and had 
not looked around for more than 
an hour. 

" Won't you please to eat 
these ?" said Christie ; " you must 
be very hungry. Mother made 
them, and she is very neat and 
particular." 

The lady turned suddenly and, 
behold, her eyes were wet with 
tears ! " Tou are a good little 
thing," she said hesitatingly. "I 
don't think I am hungry. Tou 
v^ould better eat them yourself" 

"Oh, no," Christie answered 
earnestly. " I ate bread and but- 



ter. It wasn't much ?nr. I 
would like to ha>re you know 
Jeius Christ and go to heaven. 
He can make you very happy." 

It sounded almost rude to poor 
Christie, now that she had said it, 
but she did not know how else to 
put the thought. Ever since her 
talk with the old gentleman, she 
had felt that she ought to invite 
this lady ; and she had prayed 
about her until she felt very sorry 
for her. 

" You are a strange child," said 
the lady ; but her voice was not 
hard any more, and she murmur- 
ed under her breath, that she was 
sure she needed happiness if any- 
body did. 

Christie slipped softly away 



^/oaf of hrom bnad. 
Tfm looXs lik^.h mt. , 

/I bandit end sj9ou.i 
maks ajioljor our ita. . 



n lint or hoo in ort. 



JhakiS ourftafiot look 



/< 



unn 



"J 



loid /itlps fts To finish. 
Our nui- f racking ^unnu' 



anythintr, It came un very slowly, 
and finally made a dead stop just 
below them. The passengers 
could be seen, getting out in the 
mud and rain, and making all 
haste to the train which was a few 
.eet ahead of thom. 

" Then the bridge wasn't 
down?" said n passenger to a 
brakesman. 

" No, there was a broken rail 
just this side of it, and the begin- 
ning of a washout, that has kept 
them back." 

Just then the car door opened 
with a sudden jerk. A shrill 
voice was heard to say in tones 
divided between a scream and a 
groan, " Where is he?" and then. 
" Oh, my darling, my darling !" 






A DRAWING LK8S0N FOR THE VERY LITTLE ONES, 

after that ; but the two seed cakes and Christie, who was standing 
were eaten, every crumb. I with her back to the door, with 

And now there began to be a the baby in her arms, felt herself 
bustling of train men through the j almost tipped over, in the dash 
cars ; ropes were pulled, and bells which a richly-dressed lady made 



were rung, and a general air of 
something about to tiappen stole 
over things. 

" Some train is coming or 
going," said Wells. " I hear the 
rumble in the distance." 

Sure enough it drew nearer. . 

" It's coming up behind us," 
said Wells. "Now I wonder if 
the next thing on the programme 
is to be smashed into by the after- 
noon express ?" 

And. said Christie : 

" Oh, I wonder if baby's mother 
can be on that train ?" 

It was not trying to smash into 



to get baby 

No sooner did he have a glimpse 
of her than the ungrateful fellow 
set up shouts of delight, and was 
in such a hurry to get away that 
he scrambled wildly over Chris- 
tie's shoulder, taking a pieceofher 
delicate ruffle in his eager hand. 

Oh dear me! such a time as 
there was! I couldn't think of 
trying io describe it to you. That 
mother behaved herself in such a 
manner as to nearly drive the 
lookers-on frantic. She laughed, 
and she cried, almost both at once 
She hugged the baby until he 



rebelled and scratched her for it. 
She kissed him until ho cried. 
Then she hugged Christie, and 
kissed her, until her face was too 
red to grow any redder. And all 
the time she tried to teJl her wild 
story, and to ask a dozen 
questions. 

I thought there would be a 
despatch waiting for me at that 
office, and I went to see ; and that 
dreadful telegraph clerk kept me 
waiting, and the first thing I knew 
the train was gone! Oh, I thought I 
should die ! I screamed and shout- 
ed ; it seemed to me that the very 
engine would be sorry for me and 
stop ! Mamma's poor darling ! 
Did he cry dreadfully ? I saw 
you, little girl, this morning, and 
saw you look at baby with a 
pleasant face, and I wondered if 
you would try to take care of him. 
O baby, baby! I'll never let you 
ontof my armsagain fora minute!" 

such a day as tnis has been ! 
Whereupon, baby at that 

moment, as if to prove to his 
mother how false and foolish was 
her promise, gave a sudden 
delighted spring and landed in 
Christie's arms again, hiding his 
pretty roguish head on her 
shoulder. 

So eager were the people over 
all this, and such long stories had 
they to tell the questioning 
mother,that they forgot to take note 
of the bustle going on in the train. 

Suddenly Wells waked up to it. 

"I really believe we are going 
on again '" he said, as he watched 
the rapid movementsof the brakes- 
man. " Halloo, Brewster ! Do 
you mean to take us into the city 
in time for bed, alter all ?" 

" Looks like it," said the brakes- 
man, smiling good-naturedly. 
" We had to wait for the mother, 
you know ; now we've got her, 
we think of going on as soon as 
the up-traiu passes." 

"The up-train ;<"' said Wells. 
" Is it time for that ? When does 
it come ?" 

" It will be along in five 
minutes ; we are going to switch 
for her to pass, then on we go." 

" The up-train !" echoed Chris- 
tie, a sudden new dismayed 
thought in her heart. Why, isn't 
that the six o'clock at our 
station?" 

" The very same. This interest- 
ing day is about done." 

"Well, but— that's the train I 
am to come home on, and father 
will be at the depot to meet me. 
" Why I've got to go home !" 

"Oh, no I They will never 
expect you to do such a thing as 
that! Less than an hour now 
will take us into the city. We'll 
go kiting, when we do start. Of 
course your people will expect 
you to go on and make your visit. 
Have the conductor trlegraph 
your father that you are a .1 right ; 
I'll see to it for you ; and if your 
uncle is not at the depot I'll take 
a carriage and go there with yon. 

1 wouldn't give up my Christ- 
mas in this fashion." 

(7b be cnntinued.) 




®H^ 






ked her for it. 
til ho cried. 
Christie, and 
face was too 
ler. And all 
tell her wild 
Ic a doaen 

wonld be a 
' me at that 
see; and that 
lerkkept me 
thins I knew 
)h,I thought I 
ed and shout- 
that the very 
;y for me and 
)or darling ! 
illy ? I saw 
Horning, and 
taby with a 

wondered if 
e care of him. 
ever let you 
fora minute!" 
las been ! 
>y at that 
i>rove to his 
1 foolish was 
I a sudden 
id landed in 
n, hiding his 
!ad on her 

people over 
ig stories had 

questioning 
otto take note 
I ill the train, 
aked up to it. 
we are going 
18 he watched 
oi the brakes- 
ewster ! Do 

into the city 

all?" 

d the brakes- 

>d-naturedly, 

the mother, 

vo got her, 
n as soon as 

said Wells. 
When does 

ing in five 
ig to switch 
)n we go." 
hoed Chris- 
dismayed 
Why, isn't 
ck at our 

?his interest- 

the train I 
, and father 
to meet me. 
iorae!" 
will never 
1 a thing as 
hour now 
city. We'll 
io start. Of 
will expect 
e your visit, 
trlegraph 
■re a 1 right ; 
and if your 
pot I'll take 
•e with you. 
my Christ' 






led.) 






REPRINT^:D STORIES, FROM THE "NOHTIIKRN MESSENGER." 



25 



CHBISTIB'S CHRISTMAS. 

BT PAtlllT. 

OHAPTEn X-Omtinvd. 
Christie thought a moment, a 



the mud, a strong hand springing 
her to the plaiform of imoiher 
train, a kind voice saving, " Gouil- 
by, liltio womikii ; I'll not forget !" 
And Christie hud parted from nil 
her friends and ncquaiiitnnct's 



world of pprpii'xiiy on her face, ' whom she spcmt'd to have known 
then presently h it face cleared: so long and well, and was in a 
"No, I thuiik you, I must go strange car, surrounded by 

' stninge and ralht>r 

cross-looking pi'o- 
pie, anl IVlt grown- 
up and loiu'iy. 

" Why, is it pos- 
sible that she has 




gone 



L>xclaiint>d 



ABBIE. 



home ; mother said, *- be sure to 
come back to-night." S>he didn't 
say a word about what I was to 
do if I didn't jret to uncle Daniel 'a 
at all. She .just said : 

" And, Christie, you be sure 
and come home to-night, what- 
ever happens. Don't you let them 
coax you to stay ; tell them 
mother expects you. So, you see, 
I must go back on that very 
train." 

" Of course she must," said the 
old gentleman, who had been 
listening attentively. " &ho is 
not the sort of n woman to keep 
her mothor waiting and vvalchiiig, 
while she goes and makes a 
visit." 

"Well, I declare!" grninbled 
Wells, not coiiviiiceJ, and much 
disgufted at the thought of part- 
ing with his nurse, " that is the 
queerest way toinuko a Christmas 
visit that I fverh'Mirdof! Here's 
the tram! You'll have to hurry, 
if you're really going to be so 
foolish 08 to <:o. That train 
doesn't stop at places long enough 
for a (l'IIow to wink." 

"I'll help her oil," said ino pale 
young nan, and be had his 
nmbrelU raised bei'ureshe reached 
the platform ;ber flowered satchel 
waaou his arm,aiid there was noth- 
ing for Christie to do but to smile 
her good-bye to her friends in the 
car, and step down into the night 
and the darkness. A few steps in 



the mother of the 
baby, takinirin the 
chunv'o of plan just 
as the cur-doi>r 
closed after Chris- 
tie. " I thought 
she was going to 
the city. Whv, I 
wanted to talk with 
her, and take care 
of her. Whatshull 
I do? I must hit ve 
the child's add less 
who knows her?" 

Then up started 
the old gentleman : 

"Bless my heart ' 
I have let her slip 
away after all, with- 
out getting her 
address. That is 
too bad." 

" I can help you 
about that," said 
Wells, waking out 
of his ill-humor to 
be interested. "Her 
name is Christie 



Karl stayed at home to do the 
clinres. Don't talk any now, my 
girl, only wrap up close, and duck 
yuur head down outof the driving 
ruin, and we'll get home in no 
time. Supper's waiting. A 
regular Christmas 8uppi>r, too: 
though it ain't much like your 
dinner I s'pose," 

A silvery little laugh rang out 
to him from liehind thi^ oldsh.iwl, 
and u mutlk'd voice said she didn't 
believe it was. 

And they drove home with all 
speed, the raiii coming thicker and 
faster. 

How the tea-kettli> sang on the 
brijlit stove, and what a supper 
that was! Stewed chicken, and 
potatoes stewed in cream, ond hot 
apple sauce are not bad to eat at 
any time, if one is hungry. But 
when one has bad only a small 
slice ot "Sarah Ann's" bread for 
dinner, niid has given away every 
one uf her seed-cakes, I cannot be- 
gin to tell von hnw good it tastes. 

Then think oi the story that 
there was to tell. 

" I don't believe I can finish it 
before next Christmas," declared 
Christii>, laughing, and kissing 
the baby for the tenth time. 

" \ou see I have only told you 
the liiudR of chapters, just as Karl 
always reails the index of his 
book ; but when I begin to put in 
the little bits, it will takcdaysand 
days. (>, father, what do you 
think ! I saw the governor, and sat 
with him. and talked with him!" 

'• Well," said father,alter having 
heard dashes at that wonderful 
part of that wonderful story, " I 



Tncker, and her | guess you saw lots of things to 
father is Mr. Jonas Tucker, a day, and it's my opinion some 
farmer who lives about two miles 'other folks saw some things too. 
from Pi 'rpoint station, where 8t»e It is a great day, I think. •Im 
took the train this morning. She iplad she was there to take care of 
is a friend of mine," he added: that boy," — ond hero he put his 
proudly. |arm around Karl, —" and that 

I suppose Karl Tucker would baby, eh, mother ? ' and here he 
have been very much amazed, kissed the baby, 
could he have heard that. The I " And you never went to uncle 
world had moved much laster that Daiiiel's at all!" said Mrs. Tucker, 
day than Karl Tucker dreamed |\viih her elbow on the table, and 
of Or Karl Tucker's father, (orj 
the matter of that. He waited in: 
the rain and the darkness, for his 
little girl. He had spent a bu.xy 
day about the tarm, and had heard 
no news. The two men whom 
he had met and talked wiih, a lew 
minutes on hie way to the cars, 
neither knew, nor kiiowing.would I 
have cared, thiit there had been 
confusion <>ii the rhilway all day. 
So Mr. Tneker, us lie waited 
anxiously on the inilk-|ilaiforin 
lor the coining of the uptruin, 
only knew that it was daik and 
rainy, and that railway cars wiTe 
"f-kiitish" things, and hoped that 
"Daniel had put his little girl in 
a ^ood seat, uud that she wasn't 
scared." 

"Htt!" he said \viih a relieved 
siiih, as at last h" folded lier in 
his arms and kissed her, "I'athoi's 
got you again. It's l>een u long 
day lor Chli^tlna8. Come in here 
and let ine wrap you up. We'll 
hurry, for ii's goiiisr to lain hard, 
and yuur mother will be anxious. 



her hand on the teapot handle. 
"Well, I am tical !" 

And so, iit last, Christie's Christ 
mas was ended. 



1 



THE END. 



HOW 



ARR 



BOYS' MARBLES 
MADE. 

Almost all the " marbles " 
with which boys everywhere 
amuse themselves in season and 
nut of sea.soii,oii pavement and on 
shady spots, are made at Ober- 
stein, Germany. There are lar'.^e 
agute quarries and mills in the 
neigh))orhood, ami the refuse is 
lurned to good account in |,rovid- 
iiiu: the small stone ba Is for ex- 
perls to "knuckle" with. The 
stone is broken into small cubes 
by blows • of a lisiht hammer. 
These small blocks of stone are 
thrown by the shovelful into tho 
hopper of u small mill, formed of 
a bedstone, having its eurlace 
grooved with concentrated fur- 
rows; above this is the "runner," 
which is of some hard wood, hav- 
ing a level lace on its lower sur- 
face. The upper block is made 
to revolve Ta,iidly, water being 
delivered upon the grooves of tho 
bedstones where the marbles are 
being rounded. It takes about 
fifteen minutes to finish half a 
bushel of good marbles, ready for 
the boys' knuckles. One mill will 
turn out lOK.iiiiU marbles per 
week. The very hardest " crack- 
ers," as the boys call them, aro 
made by a slower process, some- 
what analogous, however, to the 
other, — Children's Friend. 

The story of ".Tack the Giant- 
Killer" was first printed in 1711, 
but the children in Kngland and 
Germany had heard it then for 
hundreds of years. No one knows 
how old it is, or where or how it 
started. ".Tack and the Bean- 
stalk" was first told in Iceland, 
where it was believed to be true. 
Ions, long ago. 



•»- 




o 1 



Life. 



1 



2fi 

THE WATEU WAIFS 
A Story of Canal Barge 

BY KMMA LGSIilK. 
AuOur of " KlUrilU Hoim," tit. 

Chaptkr I.— Bau'b Home. 

" You'll be kind to her, Molly, 
when I'm gone, and take care 
o'poor Bab, won't yer ?" and (ho 
glaring eyes of the dyin^ woman 
were lifted anxiously to the girl 
atanding beside her. 

" Yea, yes, I'Ji look arter her," 
■aid tha girl, hastily brushing a 
tear away, and glanoinG: at hor lit- 
tle sister, who lay curled up at the 
foot of her bed. 

" Sho ain't like no other 
boater I erer seed," said the 
poor woman, fondly ; *' she 
picks up things and talks 
about 'em better nor a par- 
son She's brought to my 
mind thini^s as I'd learned 
when I was a gal and hadn't 
set eyes on a boat — l)out 
Jesus and the poor woman 
what was a sinner. Sho 
warn't so bad as me, for she 
warn't a boater; but little 
Bab there, she's told me as 
now J^sns'll forgive all sin, 
and BO I ain't afraid toventure 
it bad as 1 is, and if I could 
take Bab wi' me, I dnnno as 
I wouldn't be glad to go; 
but Pm feard for the child, 
Moll, for she'll never be no 

?fOod lor a boater, and yer 
ather knows that, and it jest 
makes him mad and he'd like 
to leave her behind at some 
wharf; so yer'U have to look 
sharp arter her when the 
boat's a-leaving that wharf, 
Molly." 

" AH right ; don't yer be 
afeard, mother I '11 see she 
ain't left behind.and I'll keep 
her pretty hair clean." 

This promise seemed to 
comfort the poor woman. She 
closed her eyes, aud a look of 
rest and peace stole over her 
hard, careworn face. Molly, 
thinking her mother wanted 
to sleep, turned from the bed 
and let down the little cup- 
board door which serves for 
a table in all barge cabins, 
and began to get the tea 
ready. 

In a minute or two a rongh, 
bnrly-looking man put his 
head in at the door, and ask- 
ed, with an oath, how much 
longer she was going to be 
getting tea ready. 

*' Don't make such a row ; can't 
yer see mother's asleep ?' ' said the 
girl, in a suriy tone 

" Well, she's got all the day to 
sleep as well as the night, ain't 
she?" said the man. "Give us the 
tea;" and he took the basin from the 
girl's hand and went out again, 
grumbling as he went. 

"Is mother asleep?" asked a 
sweet voice in a gentle whisper, as 
the man disappeared. 

" Yes, Eab, she's fast asleep so 
come and get your tea;" and 
Molly lifted her sister from the 



REPRINTKD STORIES. FROM THK "NORTHKRN MESSENGER." 



bed to a box where she could 
reach the table. 

" If a stranger had been there 
he would have been surprised, 
perhaps, to see Bab lifted so care- 
fullv by her sister, for she was 
evidently about seven or eight 
years old, and sitting, on the bed, 
looked as well able to help her- 
self as other children of her ago; 
but now, as she was placed on the 
box, it was evident that sho was 
hopelessly lame — one leg looked 
so small and shrunken that it 
could scarcely have grown since 
she was a baby. 

I " Bah, I'll brush yer hair arter 
i tea," said her sister. " Yer 



can't ; but never mind, Bab, I've 
promised I'll take care on yer, and 
I will. I'll begin arter tea, and 
let mother see. I'll wash yer face 
and do yer hair, Bab." 

Poor Bab had not had her face 
and hands washed for two or three 
days— not since her mother had 
been obliged to lie in bed all 
day ; for Molly rarely noticed 
her little sister, unless it was to 



beoanse of this ; and so it is not 
surprising that she rather shrank 
from being washed by Molly now. 
" I can wait till mother gets bet- 
ter," she said, trying to creep bad; 
to her place at the foot of thi' 
bed. 

" No yer can't ; I want mother 
to see as how I nan wash yer n . 
well as she can." 

" Oh, Molly, don't," whimpereil 



it** 

*' V her bi 




needn't be afraid, I ain't a-going 
to cut it off, as I said I would, 
though what good such hair is to 
a poor little boater, I dnnno. If 
yer was a lady, now, yer pink and 
white face and shiny yaller hair, 
all twisting and curling like it 
does, 'ud bejust the thing ; but it 
ain't no good to us boaters." 

Bab pushed back her wealth of 
golden curls and sighed. " I wish 
I'd got hair like yours, Molly," she 
said ; " then, maybe, my legs 'nd 
be like yours too, and I could run 
on the towing-path like you and 
Jack." " Ah ! it's a pity yer 



utter some cruel or jealous words ; the child, as her sister pulled he 
and 80 the child was almost as back. But it was of little us<' 
alarmed as she was surprised resisting. Molly had made n;' 
when Molly proposed to wash her her mind to wash her face ami 
face, for washing was a luxury | comb out the tangled, curly hair, 
not often indulged in among the and she scooped up some water 
boaters. It was considered a I from the canal, and was rubbin^r 

away at the dirty little hands 
before Bab had time to say 
any more. 

The child cried a little 
nnderthe combing operation, 
for Molly was not very gentle, 
and quite unused to such a 
task. She combed her own 
hair about once or twice n 
week, but she had never 
done Bab's before, and gentle- 
ness was something quite be- 
yond Molly's comprehension 
at present. She rather look- 
ed down upon it as a weak- 
ness, especially in boater 
girls, who had to hold their 
own oji the towing-path and 
at the wharfiUnless they were 
ready to be put upon by 
everybody else, like \iQot lit- 
tle Bab was. 

Bab winced, and the tears 
silently ran down hercheekr 
after one of Molly's vigorous 
pulls at her hair ; but she 
would not cry out, for fear ol 
disturbing her mother who 
still seemed to bo in a pro- 
found sleep. 

When the washing and 

combing wore done, Molly 

lifted the child on the bed 

again, where she could look 

out of the tiny window on to 

the black canal or the towing- 

pnth, and having done what 

sho could to make the dirty, 

stuiTy little cabin tidy, slie 

went outside to see when 

they were likely to tie up for 

the night. This would give 

her aud Jack the only chance 

they ever had of " a little 

fun,'' as they called it. Very 

often, however, they were so 

tired with their long day's 

tramp on the towing-path, 

that they only cared to lie 

down and go to sleep. But 

for a wonder, they were not so 

tired to-day, and so, when their 

father had gone, as he usually did, 

to spend his evening at one of the 

low beer-shops near the bank, 

Molly and Jack, with two or three 

other girls and boys from 

neighboring barges, made up their 

minds to have some fun before 

going to bed. It was a bright 

moonlight night. What with 

play ing.quarrelling,' and fighting, 

the time passed quickly enough, 

and Molly never thought of either 

Bab or her mother, until, hearing 

a clock strike ten, sho called to 



THE CHILD CRIKD A LITTLE UNDER THK COMBING OPERATION." 



waste of time, as children always 
made themselves dirty again. 
Molly had often heard this remark 
from her mother, until Bab came 
with her sweet, fair face and love- 
ly, golden hair, which seemed to 
awaken her mother's love for 
cleanliness and a passion of 
jealousy in Molly. "Why should 
this helpless little sister," she ask- 
ed, " be washed and combed, and 
kept clean, and made altogether 
so nnlike her filthy surround- 
ings." 

Many a sly slap and pinch had 
Bab received from her elder sister 



Cl^- 



w\ 



^4Sl 



^H8 



1 to it is not 
rather «hrani< 
)y Molly now. 
her gota but- 
to croop bad; 
I foot of the 

want mother 
I vvaah yor a . 

," whirapert'il 
er pnllcd ho- 
of little uii< 
ad made u;> 
ler face an<I 
d, cnrly hair. 
■ Bomo water 
was rubbing.' 
ty little hand:, 
time to say 

ried a little 
ng operation, 
»t very gentle, 
id to such a 
jed her own 
) or twice a 
) had never 
•e, and gentle- 
ling quite be- 
impreliension 
B rather look- 
t as a weak- 
Y in boater 
to hold their 
rini;-path and 
ess they were 
lut upon by 
like iKtor lit- 

and the tears 
tn hercheekr 
lly's vigorous 
air ; but she 
it, for fear ol 
mother who 
be in a pro- 
ashing and 
done, Molly 
on the bed 

could look 

vindow on to 

r the towing- 

gdone what 

ke the dirty, 

in tidy, she 

) see when 

to tie up for 

would give 

only chance 

of " a little 

ed it. Very 

they were so 

long day's 
towing-path, 
cared to lie 
sleep. But 
were not so 
when their 
usually did, 
at one of the 
' the bank, 
two or three 
boys from 
lade up their 

inn before 
a bright 
What with 
ind fightinff, 
kly enough, 
ght of either 
ntil, hearing 
10 called to 



B 

as 



r 

I' her b 



u 



brother, saying she was going 
in now, ami he had bettor do the 
same; and then she jumped on 
board the barge, and ran into the 
little cabin to get a light before 
her father came home. 

In a minute or two she was at 
the side of the barge again, calling 
" .Tack ! Jack I" in a tone of snp- 
pressed terror. When her brother 
came, she clutched him by the 
shoulder, and almost dragged him 
to the cabin-door. 

" What's the row now ?" asked 
the boy, trying to shake off his 
sister's hand. 

" I want yer to come and look 
at mother. Jack," whispered 
Molly, with a shiver of 
fear. 

" What's the good ? I can't 
do nothing," said the boy ; 
and he shook himself free of 
Molly's detaining hold, and 
sat down on the steps, while 
Molly peered fearfully into 
the cabin. 

" I do b'lieve she's dead, 
Jack," she said, in a whisper ; 
" and there's Bab laying there 
holding her hand as though 
she was asleep." 

The child seemed to awake 
at this moment, and seeing 
her sister at the door, she 
said, " Oh, Molly, do come 
and make mother warm : she 
is so cold." 

" Get away from her, Bab, 
get away ; don't yer know 
she's dead ?" said Molly, but 
without venturing to go near 
the bed herself. 

But instead of moving 
away, poor little Bab threw 
herself, with a passionate 
cr V, on to her mother's breast, 
sobbing, " She ain't dead, I 
know she ain't ; she spoke to 
mo 'fore she went to sleep ; 
she telled me God 'ud take 
care on me somehow, 
und not let me be a boater 
alius." 

" Oh dear, Jack, what shall 
we do y Qo and tiad father, 
or letch somebody here," said 
Molly, in still greater terror, 
as she saw poor little Bab 
throw her arms round her 
mother's neck. 

.Tack was only too glad to 
make his escape, and soon ran 
to one of the other barges, 
and brought back a woman, 
who went in and lifted poor 
Bab from the bed, and 
put her on the steps near 
Molly. 

" Don't cry, little 'an," she said, 
in a rough but kindly voice ; "yer 
liime, I see, but somebody' ull take 
care on yer, never fear." 

" I ain't afeard ; I only want 
moth^c," sobbed the poor child. 

" Why, don't yer know she's 
dead?" suappedMolly,impatiently. 
6he was crying, too, but not with 
such iiitterness of grief as her lit- 
tle lame sister. 

" Ter jest take her aboard our 
boat for to-night, and go and fetch 
yer father, for I dunno what to 
do. Did yer mother have a 



REPRINTKl) STORII-X FROM j;ilE 
see her 7" asked the 



doctor to 
woman. 

Molly opened her eyes at the 
question. " Oh no," she said ; 
" I used to fetch her stnlf for her 
couirh sometimes, when father 
could spare the money, I got 
some ycHterday, and she ain't 
took morn'n half on it ; so 'tain't 
for want of physic she died." 

"Well, yer'd better fetch yer 
father, for a doctor'U have to be 
got now," said the woman ; and 
Jack ran olFto the beer-shop at 
once. 

In a few minutes the man came 
lounging down to the boat. 
" What's this yer saying 'bout a 



— «- 

NORTHKUN MKSSKNtiER." ^27_ 

poor thing." " Yss, yes , I kno>* 
shti's gone to God, ami f\w'n tell- 
ing Him about me, niid how I 
ain'tiitto be a boater, and lie's 
going to takecaru o'me as well as 
mother," 

" Bless the little 'un, how she 
do talk !" said the woman, glanc- 
ing at Molly. " Eh, sliu's a rum 
'un — she alius was, ' said Molly, 
" But yur can't go in there now, 
yer know, Bab," she added. 

" But I must, I muHt ; God is 
a-going to take ore o'me as well 
as mother, and I must be there 
ready, don't yer know. ' 

" Be where ?" asked Molly, 

" In there, on mother's bed ; 



she ha' said she was a going to 
die, and not make all this bother 
about it ? " 

He forgot that he had scarcely 
done more than put his head into 
the cabin to ask for his meals since 
the poor woman had been taken 
worse, for fear she should make 
any complaint, or ask for a doctor; 
but his neighbor seemed to under- 
stund all about it as well as though 
she had lived with them, and told 
him so in no very choice lan- 
guage. 

It came to high words between 
them at last, and might have 
resulted in a fight, despite the 
presence of the dead, had not one 




DK. DODDRIDGE, UIS HOTBEB, AND THE DUTCH TILEa. 



she's telling God about me 
now, I know, and He'll, may- 
be, send for me to-night, nnd 
if I ain't there ready, mother 
wouldn't like it." 

Molly and the woman look- 
ed at each other, and then 
at Bab. " Ifou are strange," 
said Molly. " I don't think 
I shall ever undor- 
stand you, Bab." 

" I'd lot her go and sit on 
the bed, if she likes," said the 
woman ; " it can't hurt, yer 
know ; it's jett consumption 
the poor thing had, I should 
say, and that ain't like fever 
— 'tain't ketching." 

" Will yer go then, Bab ?" 
asked Molly. 

" Oh yes, yes ; do take me 
to mother. I won't cry and 
make a noise if yer'll let nie 
sit aside o' mother, " sobbed 
the child. 

" I'd let her go, thnuirh 
she'd bo a deal better lust 
asleep with my young 
'uns." 

" Oh no ; I mustn't go to 
sleep," said Bab. " ! must 
keep awake till mother's 
talked to God, and he sends 
forme ;" and once more the 
begged her sister to tuke her 
into the cubin. 

" Oh, I can't go in there," 
said Molly. 

" Here, I'll take her in," 
said the woman ; and she 
carried Bab into the cabin 
and seated her on the bod, 
whore she could hold her 
mother's hand and see her 
face, for this was what she 
wanted. 

{To be continued.) 



he asked the woman, 
stood near the cabin- 



doctor ?" 
who still 
door. 

" Why, yer ought ter had a 
doctor to the poor thing afore she 
died," said the woman. 

" Who was to know she was 
a-going to die ?" said the man, 
glancing at the bed, and speaking 
iji an injured tone. 

" Well, yer'll have to go and get 
one now, for there's the baryin' to 
be thought about." 

The man scratched his head, 
" It's jest like her," he said, in a 
grumbling tone ; " why couldn't 



of the woman's children run up 
to tell her mother that Bab was 
crying so much they could do 
nothing with her. 

" Go and fetdi her here, Moll, 
while 1 go and look tor a doctor, ' 
said the man, glad of the interrup- 
tion to get away. Molly went and 
fetched her little ^sister, and sat 
down on the cabin steps with her 
in her arms. 

But this did not satisfy Bab. 
" Take me in to mother," sne sob- 
bed; "she wants me. I know." 

" No, n«, little 'un ; yer mother! instruction he frequently recnm- 
don't wanfyer now ; she's dead, | mended to parents. 



PICTURE LESSONS. 

" I have heard Dr. Doddrige 
relate," says Mr. Job Or*on, his 
biographer, " that his mother 
taught him the history of the Old 
and New Testaments by the 
assistance of some Dutch tiles in 
the chimney in the room where 
they commonly sat ; and her 
wise and pious remarks upon 
the means, by God's blessing, of 
making many good impressions 
npon his heart which never wore 
out, and therefore this method of 



r 



» — 

28 
THE 



REPIUNTKI) STOKIKS. FROM TI?K "NOUTIIKRN MKaSKNO 



\7ATBR WAIP8: 
A Story of Canal Barge Life. 

BY KM MA btBI.IK. 

AuUxw »/ " KlUnlU llmm," tU. 

ClurTBR l—Cimltnutft. 

What thonhild oxppctvd wonld 
tako plaro, thev di<l not aak, and 
if they had Bab conld nnt have 
told them ; bat aha waa 



>ako care of Rah, and havhiff done 
thia, ihn had dontt all that waa 
ri>(|iiired nf hor, ahn thoiiKht, and 
a<t llnh waa left to indulge ht<r 
f^riefandhi'rtnaainf^HUiidiatnrbpd. 
8hi« would nit for hoiira oii tho bed 
at iho lilllH ('iihiii window, lookinff 
out at the ala^firiah black wiiterof 
Ihecanal wilhont iip<*akiii|^ a word 



to aak God to take care on rae, and 
conran He would lond that niffht, 
and I oui^ht tor kept awake to ho 
ready ; but I wtMit to ileep, anil 
CO I'vti milled my rhanco;" and 
|ioor liiib'i temra brokii out afreih 
aa ahu cunnludt-d. 

" Well, your'ro a mm 'un, Bab. 
la thia what yor'vo bocii a-fri-ttincf 



ovt-n when Molly wjb in th.< cabin, ^nd atowiajf about all Ihia limo Y" 
rmikinif or waahin^ up the tin said Molly, in a tono o( wondor. 
poll and baaina that formed their I Rab turned h»>r tfurful blue 



content, now iho waa near her 

mother Bifain; and Hnilinjf that 'only tea lervice. leyea full npou her iiiiler. "I've 

ihe had left otr crying, Molly woi But one day, abouC a month after' been a-waiting," ihe laid i "I 
latiifled. 'her molher'a death, Hab laid! Ihoufrhl miiybu He'd leiid agin 

8he waa itill keeping her lilent, I* Did I 'leep very long that night 'if I joat itopped here and wait- 



•olitary watch, when her father .mother died, Moll y" 



returned with tho doctor. She 
would have hidden heraelf 
ander the bedclothea ifahe 
could when ihe heard them 
coming, for ahe waa afraid 
her father would drag her 
away, aa ho would have 
done but for the appealing 
gnzDwith which Bah looked 
at tho doctor, and the 
agonising tone in which she 
•aid, " Do let mo itay aaide 
o* mother a bit longer 
Ood'i a-going to take care 
o' mo as well as mother, 
•nd Ho won't be long 
now" 

" Poor little girl, you 
•hall stay beiido mother if 
Ton like," said tho kind- 
nearted doctor, looking 
tenderly at Bab's tear-stain- 
ed face and swollen blue 
eyes. •' Were yon here 
with mother when she 
died?" he asked ; for one 
glanco at the ashy-grey face 
on the bed told him plainly 
enough that the woman had 
been dead some hours, al- 
though the man, on his way 
to the boat, had assured him 
that she was " only just took 
bad." 

But Bab seemed to know 
nothing of when her mother 
had died ; sho only knew 
that she had gone to ask 
God to take care of her, be- 
cause she was no good for 
a boater. And so after a 
few minutes her father and 
the doctor went away, and 
Bub was left to watch until 
sleep overcame the tired 
blue eyes, and sho slipped 
down across her mother's 
feet and slept until the 
morning. 

Chaptkb II.— Molly. 

Tho poor boatwoman's funeral 
was soon over, and the barge went 
on its way as usual. Molly took 
her mother's place as well as she 
was able and the poor woman 
was soon forgotten by all but poor 
little Bab,and for her time seemed 
to brmg no consolation, but as the 
days and weeks went on her grief 
seemed to increase. Atfirst Molly 
took little notice of the child 
beyond washing her face onco a 
day, and combing and curling her 
hair occasionally. This was what 
she htMl understood her mother to 
' mean when she asked her to 



Why, yer slept till themorin,' 



ed. 



Molly scratched her tangled 




KR." 

and letrh her away. Soineh'tw 
•he conld not nller the roiii;!) 
wordi, " Don't he a fool. Bah, 
although they were upon net 
lips; she only said,' Never iniml, 
Bab ; I'll take earxoii yer for a bit, 
and maybe 11 wehaslontayn!! }<un 
day at the wharf, I'll liiko yer 
ashore to hear some preaeliingand 
singing, liko mother did some- 
times." 

Bab's eyes brightened at lienr- 
inir this, and she reailily ngrei'd 
to let Molly set her onlnitle on the 
cabin steps. But tho light of her 
father's Hcowlinuf lace as he sat 
smoking close to the tiller, made 
poor Bab shiver with undelined 
fear, and she cluic^h- 
ed Molly's hand and 
whispered, " Yer'll take 
care on ino, Moll, tlionuh I 
ain't no good lor a boater V" 
" Yes, yes ; don't yer be 
afeard ; I'll lake good cure 
on yer,"said Molly, uttering 
an oath to make her promise 
more assuring. 

But BttI) whispered, 
' Don't swear, Molly ; God 
don't liko us to swear, the 
man says, and I told mother 
I wouldn't." 

Molly lauffhed. " What 
next, I wonuer !" sho said; 
" Why I shouldn't bo much 
of a boater if I didn't swear 
as good as father hissell." 




Molly 



PUT IIEK AKM8 BOUND BAB PUOTECTINOLY 



said her sister, in- 



I s'pose," 
differently. 

Bab sighed. " I didn't mean 
to go to sleep that night, Molly," 
she said. 

" Why, it wor tho best thing 
ver could do," said practical 
Molly. 

But the child shook her head. 
" No it warn't," she said ; " I jest 
missed my ch nee that night, and 
it won't come again, maybe." 

" Missed yer chance '{ What 
do yer mean ?' asked hor sister. 

" Don't yer know what I told 
yer, Moll 1 Mother was a-going 



head in perplexity. Ignorant as 
she was in snch matters, she was 
sure that Bab had made a mistake 
in supposing that God was going 
to send a messenger to carry her 
off bodily ; but she knew so little 
abontreligion — so rarely heard the 
name of God even, except when 
her father was swearing — that she 
knew not how to tell Bab sho was 
in error ; yet her heart was touch- 
ed with pity for the poor helpless 
child, who sat in the misorable 
cabin day after day patiently 
waiting without a murmur for 
some nnknown messenger to come 



'But Hod don't liko 
h He 
Bab, in a 



> yer 
to swear, thoug:h He likes 



boaters," said 
serious lone. 

"Oh, boaters ain't got no 
time to think about C?od or 
what Ho likes ; why, they 
ain't got time to tie up of a 
Sunday, 'ceptwhen they're 
loading up and can't cret 
away from tho wharf. No, 
Bab, them thini;s ain't for 
boaters," conclu<led Molly. 
" But tho man said they 
was, Moll — the man at tho 
wharf, yer know, 
they talked about .leHUs and 
the woman that was a 
sinner, wot mother liked to 
hear about. She said ns 
she knowed it war true, 
'cos she'd heerd about it, 
when she wor a gal, and she 
often talked to me itbont it, 
and I told her all I could 
'member o' what I'd heerd 
about .Tesus loving poor 
koaters, and how He wanted 
'em to do the right square 
things, and not swear, nor 
drink, nor kick the donkeys." 

■'Oh, bother tho don 
keys," said Molly ; " they can look 
arter themselves ; they're 
agrawatin' enough. Yer don't 
mean to tell me as God looks arter 
donkeys ?" 

But Bab could only shako her 
head. " I dunno", she said, " I 
want to know a bit more; tho man 
said God 'ud take care on us, and 
He's took care o' mother, but why 
won't Ho ha' me ? I ain't no good 
for a boater." 

" Yer right enough there ; yer 
ain't no good for nuffin', as I can 



■ee, ' ini 
and look 
lather 
iHH)r litl 
lotk lit 
close di 
whliperi 
wiiy, Ml 
lit all II 
resolved 
put he 
l>i'it|ictin 
kii'iiv nu 
•I I" can 

" 1 km: 
a boater,' 
the Booni 
better, 
aboard tl: 

" Oil, 
let 'em m 
noiiHi-nse 
drew thi 
oioser to 

' It's 
that 'ere 
can't afl'ii 
less mou 
help woi 

go-" 

" Whni 
go /" dt'u 

" Aiiyv 
o' places, 
where sh 
much wl 
her up I 
hair and ' 
some fin' f 
temptuou 

How I 
having tl 
that made 
other boat 
whispered 

" No I 
angrily, ai 
toherfathi 
wont on, ' 
this boat G 
me to lool^ 
Yer can't I 
I likes Bal 
us long as 
mako no r 
saying th 
into the ce 
the bed in 
near tho ' 
felt, and d 
protect he 
it would b 
of sight as 
sight of t 
hud alway 
and often ] 
and it won 
his anger, 
in one of t 
of temper, 
board. H 
it often em 
Bab, yer ai 
o' father, t 
bit; yer shi 
and I'll loo 
shall have 
keep the c 
I've got m 
I often geti 
of her asse 
tie bottle 
and poure 
pot, and gi 



y. Somehow 

ir tlio roiii/ii 
ik tool, lUh, 

upon her 
Nt'VtT miriil, 

1 ynr for iiltit, 
ontayall Muii 
I'll lako yt<r 
|)reiinliiiigiiii(l 
ir dill iioinit- 

:anp(l At liiMir- 
*n<lily nj^n'rd 

>lllKi<l)t oil lll(> 

« »iH;lit of li(>r 

L'o UK ho snt 

I tillor, in»(li> 

til un(l<>lliu>(l 

Hho cluli'h- 

hikiid luid 

YiT'll take 

nil, tlionifh I 

lor rtboiiti'ry" 

don't yiT l)i> 

iko ffood ciirt' 

lolly, utttTJiifif 

lior promiio 

whisprtTi'd, 
, Molly ; Ood 
to Bwenr, th« 

1 told mother 

ied. " What 

T !" nho Bdid; 
Idn'tho much 
' didn't swonr 
Iher hisstdl." 
lon't like yer 
ngh Ho likes 
I Bab, in a 

s ain't sot no 

dbont clod or 

s ; why, they 

to tie up of a 

hen they're 

d can't nret 

wharf. No, 

us ain't for 

uded Molly. 

an faid they 

innn nt the 

k n o w, 

JiU .leHUsand 

hat waH a 

her liked to 

i!^hc snid as 

t war true, 

rd about it, 

gal, and she 

ine iibout it, 

all I could 

at I'd heerd 

oving poor 

IV He wanted 

right square 

t swear, nor 

onkeys." 

the don 

hey can look 

; they're 

Yer don't 

d looks arter 

shako her 
he said, " I 
ore; the man 
B on us, and 
ler, but why 
in't no good 

there ; yer 
in', as I can 




RKPRINTKI) SroUIKS, KIIOM TIIK "NOKTHKllN MK.SSKN(;KR.' 



see," inid a ron^fh, surly voicn ; 
and loukinif round, Molly saw h«r 
liilhttr Hlandiu:^ dose by. liut 
iMHir litllit Hub WHH frii(hliined to 
[o.)k at her lather ; she cowered 
close down to he(. sister, and 
whispered, " 'I'aki) me out o' the 
way, Moll." Hut Molly was not 
at all al'niid ol her lather, and 
resolved lo let him see it She 
put her arms round lt,ih 

1>i'>M>ctinirly. undsaid, " Yer don't 
.ii'>iv nuliin' about Uuh and what 
sli" (.an do. 

" i know she ain't no ijood for 
a boater," growled the man, " anil 
ihi) sooner she takes lierHelfoli'the 
butter, for no body wants her 
aboard this barge now." 

" Oil, don't they though ; I'd 
let 'etn Keo if anybody comes any 
noiiHense wi' Hab ;" and Molly 
drew the poor frightened child 
closer to her as she spoke. 

" It's no good coming any o' 
that 'ere nonsense wi' me, 'cos I 
can't ali'ord it. I can't fill use- 
less months; and them an can't 
help work this boat has got to 

go" 

" Whore do yer wan't her to 
go i'" demanded Molly. 

" Anywhere ; she's got a pick 
o' places, and she can go ashore 
where she likes ; it don't matter 
much where ; somebody'll pick 
her up afore long, Her yaller 
hair and white face ought to do 
someKn' for her," he added con- 
temptuously. 

How Bab hated herself fur 
having this bright golden hair, 
that made hor look so unlike all 
other boaters • " Cut it off," she 
whispered, clutching at her curls, 

" No I won't," said Molly 
angrily, and turiMnp: a defiant face 
toiler father. "Now look here," she 
wont on, " as long as I'm aboard 
this boat Bab'll stop. Mother told 
mo to look arter her, and I will. 
Yer can't do without mo now, and 
I likes Bab.andshe'll stop hero jest 
as long as I do, so yer needn't 
make no more row about it, and 
saying this, Molly carried her 
into the cabin, and seated her on 
the bod in her accustomed place 
near the window. Brave as she 
felt, and determined as she was to 
protect her little sister, she knew 
it would be best to keep her out 
of sight as far as she could, for the 
sight of this " useless mouth" 
had always annoyed her father, 
and often put him into a passion ; 
and it would be best not to rouse 
his anger, she knew, for he might, 
in one of these violent outbursts 
of temper, throw the child over- 
board. He had threatened to do 
it often enough. " Now look here, 
Bab, ver ain't no call to be afraid 
o' father, though he may swear a 
bit; yer shall jest keep outo' sight, 
and I'll look arter the rest, and yer 
shall have a drop o' something to 
keep the damp off yer stomach. 
I've got mother's bottle now, and 
I often gets a drop ;" and, in proof 
of her assertion, Molly took a lit- 
tle bottle from its hiding-place, 
and poured some gin into a tin 
pot, and gave it to Bab. 



But the rhild shook her head. 
" No, no, Molly, I ean't ; mother 
told me mil Id toueh the drink 
agin, 'cos thiit 'ud made her wus 
than the woman whit was a sin- 
ner, and she said, Moll, I wor to yer ashore, if yor like, to hear the 
ax ver to give it up too." preaching, if there it any." 

liut Molly looked half offended ' " Uh, Molly, will yer really!" 
" Who could live in this place exclaimed liai) ; and a faint color 
without a drop o' something to stole into her pallid cheeks at the 
keep the damp out 'o yer sto- thought of hearing more about 
maoh ?" ^hl• sitiil, irlancing at the ,Ichuh, the friend of boaters and the 
rei'kiiig floor of the cabin, where woman who was a sinner, 
the black mud came oozing Having hettled her sister on her 
Ihrouirh lliK crai'ks and joints; ami grassy seal, Molly went olf in 
she drank olf the gin herself, and . seaiuh of a little amusement on 
liid the liollle agiiiii. Molly was j her own account; but she kept her 



why, yer like a hit of another 
world to me, and I want yer to 
talk to me like yer did lo mother 
Jack says we're sure lo tie up at 
the wharf a Sunday, and I'lluke 
lice 
hen 
Molly, will 
Hal) ; and a 



only thirteen, but she felt herself 
a woman now. She had been 
used to stealing sip:< from hi>r 
mother'sbottlo aslong as she could 
remember, mi that it was not sur- 
prising that she should take po.s- 
session of the bottle, and get it 
replenished whenever sht> could 



eye on Itab.tosee that the boys and 
girls from the other barges did not 
lease hur, for, as shu whispered to 
herself again, Bab wot not like 
other boaters. 

Ui'ten and often she had used 
these words as u reproach or dis- 
paragement, but now Ihey were 



abstract a few pence from the beginninglonieansomethingquite 



money entrusted to her to buy 
bread and groceiies with. 

Bab had seen her sister more 
than onco overcome by hor 
frequent sips of gin, but she had 
felt afraid to say a word about it 
now ; and glancing at her sister's 
angry face as she put the bottle 
away, she was shivering with fear 
lest Molly should go and tell her 
father ho might do ns he liked 
about putting her ashore. 

In this, however, she did her 
sister injustice. Molly was certain- 
ly offended, but she would have 
protected her little sister against 
anybody now, and was resolved 
to do what she conld to make her 
life pleasant, although she had 
refused many a boater's great 
luxury and only consolation — a 
drop of gin. 

That evening, after the barge 
was tied up for the night, and her 
father had gonu to the public- 
house, Molly came to the cabin, 
and said, •' Now, Bab, I'll take yer 
out a bit. Father's gone, and 
Jack too, and there's a nice piece 
o' grass near the towing-path, and 
yer can sit there and look about 
yer for a time." 

Of coarse Bab was willing to 
go. She had not been further 
than the cabin steps for weeks 
now, and to sit on the gross was 
a treat indeed. As Molly carried 
her on shore, the child put her 
arms round her sister's neck, and 
whispered, "Won't yer let me love 
yer, Molly ?" 

" 'Deed Bab, you are a rum 
'un," said Molly, kissing her little 
sister as though she was half 
ashamed of doing it; "you ain't 
no boater, sure enough," she 
added, with a short laugh. 

" But yer'Il love me, Molly, 
won't yer, though I ain't no 
boater ?" whispered Bab. 

" Why, yer makes me, Bab ; I 
can't help it ; and somehow I'm 
glad now yer ain't like other 
boaters." 

' No, I ain't no good," sighed 
poor Bab,glancingatherBhranken 
little legs. 

" Oh, but yer are, though, Bab ; 



different to Molly. Babwa-<come- 
thing more choice and |.' i'ms 
than an ordinary bo.itergir hI 
be. Molly did not undc ' 

her, but she was growing ,i. 
dear to her, and her g>~' I- 
patient, lovwif^ words and 
were conquering thejealouny and 
dislike that Molly had so long felt 
towards her little sister. She was 
ready to do battle for her now 
against anybody and everybody, 
and when she saw some of the 
children from the other barges pull- 
ing Bab's curls and teasing her,she 
swooped down upon them in a 
manner they were not likely to 
forget for some time, 

" Well, she ain't no boater," said 
one who had pulled at Bab's 
bair. 

" No ; she's a deal better nor 
any of you boaters," said Molly ; 
" and if I ketch yer anigh her 
agin, I'll pitch yer all inter the 
cut ;" saying which, Molly drove 
her sister's tormentors to a dis- 
tance, and Bab felt no small pride 
in her protector's prowess. Of 
course Molly did not really mean 
that she iris better than a boater, 
thought liih : she had only said 
that to tease the other girls ; but 
still it pleased Bab to think that 
her sister cared so much for her. 

Molly privately determined that 
Sunday should oe spent at the 
wharf if she conld possibly manage 
it, and she talked to Jack about 
this, promising to get a " jolly 
dinner," for Sunday if he would 
hurry ttfe donkeys along, so that 
they reached the wharf on Satur- 
day night. Jack readily promised 
to dothis,for a whole day to lounge 
about the other wharf, or play 
pitch and toss with the other boys, 
was always pleasant io him ; and 
so, by cruelly using the stick a 
little more frequently to the over- 
worked donkeys the journey was 
accomplished in tima and they 
tied up at the wharf on Saturday 
night, to Bab's great delight. 

" Now yer can go and near the 

S reaching and singing to-morrer, 
ab," said Molly. "I'll get up 



20 T 

n 



yer hair and lake yer ashore all 
day, ami iiiavb>t tlicre'llbe two lota 
o' singing for yer" 

" Oh, ain't It nice !' laid Dab. 
" Yer'Il come too, won't yer, 
Moll 7" 

" Well, I dunno bout that. 
Preaching ami Miiigiiig ain't much 
ill my way , but yoii likes it, and 
yor shall have it if yer can gel it, 
and yer ctii tell mo bout it after- 
warils, like yer did mother. I 
hope it's a-uoing to lie fine," added 
Molly, looking anxiously out at 
the evening sky, where the clouds 
seemed to be gathering 

But Sun<lay nioriiing dawned 
bright ami warm, although it was 
late in the autumn, and before the 
bells ill the dislant clinri^hes be- 
gan to ring for innriiiiig service, 
Molly had witshed and dressed 
her sister and carried her ashore 

" There ain't nobody come yet ; 
but you slop hero a bit, and I'll 
comeback presently and take yer 
to the preaching place if it ain't 
here, though there can't bo a bet- 
ter place nor this," said Molly, as 
she seated her sinter in n comt'ort- 
ablo corner between two logs. 

" Oh, they're most sure to come 
here," said Bab looking at the pile 
of logs ; " there couldn't be no bet- 
tor place nor this for tho boaters 
to sit down." 

" Yes they're most sure to come 
here," said Molly, looking round 
There wore a few children at 

Clay on a heap of rubbish clos* 
y, and she was wondering 
whether they would interfere 
with her sinter ns soon as she had 
gone. " Look here, Bab," she said, 
picking up n stick that lay near 
and handing ii to her sister, "if 
any o' them come anigh yer, you 
jest hit out right and lett ns hard 
as ever yer can. Never mind who 
you hurt, or how. much yer hurts 



em. 



(To be cimlinuetl.) 



The Rules ok Elizabeth 
Fry.— The iollowiiig rules for the 
guidance of life are by the cele- 
brated Mrs. Fry: 1. Kover lose 
any time. I do not think that lost 
which is spent in amu'^emant or 
recreation every day, but always 
be in the habit of being employ- 
ed. 2. Never err the least in 
truth. 3. Never say on ill thing 
of a person when thou canst say 
a good *hing of him. Not only 
speak charitably, but feel so. 4. 
Never be irritable or unkind to 
anybody. 5. Never indulge thy- 
self in luxuries that are not neces- 
sary. 6. Do all things with con- 
sideration, and when thy path to 
act right is most dilHcult, put con- 
fidence in that power alone which 
is able to assist theci; and exert 
thine own powers to far as they 

go- 

We should be as careful of onr 
words as of onr actions, and as far 
from speaking ill as from doing 
ill — Cicero. 

A Passionate reproof is like a 
medicine given scalding hot ; the 



early and wash yer face and comb patient cannot take U. 




«H* 



;; 



80 
THB 

A Story 



REPRTNTKO STORIES. FROM THE 



-«» 



WATER WAIFS: 
of Canal Barge Life. 



BY BMMA I.ESUK. 
Aulkor of " £«<rilu Hmm," tc. 

Chapter III. 
suxdaY at thk whark. 

Bab looked up at her sitter for 
a minute, and then at the stick. 
At last she said, " But, ulolly, yer 
forgets IVe come to hear 'bont 
Jesus, and the man said afore as 
Jesus didn't like to see the don- 
keys beat." 

"Nobody asked ver to bent the 
donkeys," said Molly impatiently. 

"No; but little boaters 
is better nor donkeys," said 
Bab. "Jeans lores boat- 
ers, and p'r'aps they won't 
touch me;" and she put 
the stick aside. 

Molly looked at her for 
a minute, half-puzzled,half- 
displeased. "'Tis easy to 
see yer no boater," she said 
as she walked away. 

Molly went back to 
the barge, thinking of 
what Bah said, and 
wondering more than ever 
where and how the child 
could have learned such 
strange things, and hoping 
very much that her desire 
to hear more would be 
gratified to.day,for it might 
be weeks before they tied 
up on Sunday again. Molly 
even half resolved to go 
her8(*lfand hearsomething 
of what was said if there 
was service in the after- 
noon. But she could not 
leave Bab long without 
going back to see if the 
preaching had begun, and 
whether her sister was in 
a good place to hear and 
see all that was going on, 
or that the other children 
from the neighboring 
barges were not molesting 
her. 

She found Bab sitting 
where she had left her, 
quite alone, watching the 
other children at play ; but 
no one had come to preach 
or sing yet. 

"Never mind, Bab; 
they'll come presently," 
snid Molly, cheerfully; "I 
s'pose they're sure to come, 
ain't they ?" she added. 

" I dunno. They did 



mind to try and please them, that 
she might take care of Bab with- 
out interference. 

When dinner wau nearly ready, 
she went to fetch her little sister, 
that she might install her in her 
usual corner out of sight, so that 
her father might not be too for- 
cibly reminded oi this " useless 
mouth " at dinner-time, when he 
and Jack would enjoy theiri> on 
the cabin steps. 

But when she reached Bab this 
lime, she saw that the child had 
been crying. " What's a matter. 
Bah ?" she asked, quickly. " Are 
thorn boaters been at yer?" and 
Molly seized the stick that lay 



NORTHERN MESSENGER." 

was carried back to her cosy seat 
on the logs ; and Molly herself sat 
down to watch and wait for 
somebody to come and teach Bab 
something about God. and 
whether He would tak>> care of 
her as she supposed. But the 
afternoon passed, and no one came 
except the men and women from 
the boats, and they sat or lounged 
upon the logs smoking, gossiping, 
or quarrelling, until at last Molly 
carried Bab tack, feeling as dis- 
appointed as the child herself. 

It ivas evening now, and her 
father would want his tea; so 
MoUv got it as quickly as she 
could, promising to run ashore 



and quarrel, and to hurl oaths at 
each otner 




BAB sitting on THB LOOS WAITINU FOR MOLLY. 



that time, /er know, but this 
ain't the same wharf. Ain't there 
a lot o" bargaa here, Moll, and a 
lot o' froung 'uns too?" added 
Bab. 

" Tea, it's a big wharf, and I've 
heerd there's often forty or Kfty 
lie up here, loading or unloading. 
Oh yes, Bab, there's sure tu be 
preaching here; so mind yer pick 
up a bit to tell me, 'cos I'm going 
to cook the dinner now;" ana 
Mollv ran back to the barge ; for 
she knew her father and Jack 
would eipeot a good dinner to- 
day, and she hod made up her 



come I near, and prepai'ed to make a de- 



i 



scene upon the groups of dirty, 
hall-naked children play close by. 

" No, no, Molly, they ain't done 
nothingto hurtrae: they only says 
there ain't no singing nor nothing 
here ; and it miide mo cry a bit." 

" Well, yer shouldn't cry, then," 
said Molly, taking her up in her 
arms and turning towards the 
barge; "they dunno nothing 'bout 
such things, how should they ? 
I'll bring yer back this arternoon, 
and yer'll see if the man don't 
come." 

Molly was as good as her word 



as soon as it was over, and see if 
there was anybody there likely to 
help Bab. Molly herself fi>lt 
angry against some one, although 
she could not tell who was to 
blame; but surely somebody who 
knew about these things might 
come and speak a few words to 
poor boaters who hao no other 
means of learning but what they 
could pick up on a Sunday when 
they happened to tie up at a 
wharf She then looked round 
at the noisy groups of men, women, 
and childfnn, who found nothing 
else to do this fine Sunday even 



As soon as dinner was over, Bab ing but to smoke and gossip,iight 



Itdid notshock Molly ,she was too 
much accustomed to such scencH, 
but she was vexed that Bab should 
be so disappointed, and in her dis- 
content she wandered away from 
the groups of noisy people to the 
other end of the wharf, where a 
high, open fence only separated it 
from the street. Peering through 
these railings, Molly saw a few 
people go into a building nearly 
opposite, and as the door opened 
she could distinctly hear the 
sound of singing, and the next 
minute a daring thought had en- 
tered her head. She would 
take Bab to hear it too, and 
she began to look round 
for a gate at once. It was 
some time, however, be- 
fore she could find one, 
and when it was found 
she was practically no 
nearer her object for the 
gate was looked. Then, 
glancing at the respect- 
ably-dressed people who 
were passing along the 
street, Molly remembered 
that neither she nor Bab 
could mix with these ; for 
they had neither shoes 
nor stockings, and their 
clothes were little better 
than a bundle of dirty 
rags. So she slowly 
sauntered back to the 
barge, feeling very dis- 
appointed and very bitter 
against everybody. She 
could not say much now 
even to comfort Bab. 

" Ain't nobody coming 
to sing to-day, Molly?" 
asked the little girl, as 
MoUy went into the dull, 
dreary little cabin. 

" I s'pose not," said 
Molly ; " they likes singing 
for themselves best. Look 
here, Bab, I never did 
think much o' what yer 
told mo, and now ii 6 
pr«tty certain it ain't for 
boaters at all, or else why 
don't somebody come and 
tell us about it?" 

" But the man on the 
other wharf said as how 
God did care for poor 
boaters ; he said Jesus 
loved 'em like He did the 
woman wot was a sinner," 
protested Bab. 
Bat Molly shook her 
head. "No, no; gin is the only 
comfort boaters as got. I've 
heerd mother say it lots o' times, 
and I b'lieve it too." 

"But mother told me gin'ud just 
been her ruin," said Bab quickl) 
" She told me so afore she died, 
and I b'lieve that." 

" I don't," said Molly ; " we c&n 
get the gin, but yer know now 
we can't get the preaching and 
singing, even if we wanted it, and 
I'm not sure a3we do. As I said 
afore, it ain't for boaters, and 
don t suit boaters, 'cos why — 
'cos boaters ain't like other 
folks." 




I' 



HI*- 



to hurl oaths at $ 1 

.olly.she was too 
to snch sconps, 
that Bab should 
, and in her dis- 
ired away from 
f people to the 
wharf, where a 
nly separated it 
'eering through 
•liy saw a few 
uilding nearly 
he door opened 
:tly hear the 
and the next 
hought had en- 
She would 
hear it too, and 
to look round 
: once. It was 
however, be- 
9uld find one, 
it wai> found 
practically no 
object for the 
looked. Then, 
; the respect- 
1 people who 
ng along the 
y remembered 
r she nor Bab 
with these ; for 
neither shoes 
igs, and their 
re little better 
ndle of dirty 
she slowly 
back to the 
ing very dis- 
ind very bitter 
srybody. She 
ay much now 
ifort Bab. 
obody coming 
day, Molly V" 
little girl, as 
into the dull, 
cabin. 

not," said 
y likes singing 
OS best. Look 
I never did 
o' what yer 
tnd now ii i 
it ain't for 
or else why 
dy come and 
it?" 

man on the 
said as how 
are for poor 
said Jesus 
ko He did the 
was a sinner," 
b. 

shook her 
in is the only 
as got. I've 
t lofs o' time*, 

mogin'ud just 

Bab quickl} 

ore she died, 

illy ; " we cwi 
er know now 
reaching and 
wanted it, and 
lo. As I said 
boaters, and 
'cos why — 
like other 



REPRINTED STORIES, PROM THE "NORTHERN MKSSENGER." 



This argument appeared to be 
unanswerable under present cir- 
cumstances, and Bab turned her 
sad little face to the window, 
while Molly took out her bottle, 
aa she had so often seen her 
mother do when some disappoint- 
ment or misfortune had befallen 
them. Molly half hoped, half 
dreaded, that they would have to 
spend another Sunday at the 
wharf, for there was no cargo 
ready for them when the barge 



npon what she had then heard. 
8he had little else to think of, sit- 
ting there in the dreary cabin all 
day ; and in spite of her dis- 
appointment, she secretly in- 
dulged the hope as the days went 
on that another Sunday would be 
spent at the wharf. But she was 
not destined to spend another 
Sunday of suspense and hope de- 
ferred, for by midday on Satur- 
day the cargo was nil stowed on 
toe barge, and they set off at once 



was unloaded, and several days on their journey. Sunday was 
were wasted waiting for a fresh i like any other day when they 
cargo. This always put her father i were travelling. They heard the 
out of temper, for delays like this church t<ells ring in the distance, 
were a loss to him, and so it was and if they passed through a town 
more than ever necessary to keep and caught glimpses of the shops, 
poor Bab ont of his sight. It was they saw that most of the shutters 
a dull time for the poor little lame ' were closed ; but these signs and 
girl, seated in her corner of the tokens of a day of rest having 



dreary cabin, and it was 
strange that she looked pale and 
sickly, and lost her appetite ; for 
the foul smell of the close little 
cabin — which was scarcply larger 
thin a good-sized bedstead, and 
yet served as bedroom, kitchen, 



way, 
tales 



and Bab had heard such 
sometimes about the perils 
and horrors of legging through a 
tunnel that she almost held her 
breath now with fright and ter- 
ror when they were thus travel- 
ling ; for Jack in his ill temper 
had often told her that his father 
could afford to pay for the steam 
tug to tow them through if he 
had not her useless month to fill. 
So Bab felt herself guilty of being 
the cause of Jack's danger, and if 
anything happened to him it 
would of course be her fault. 
When this thought recurred to 
her now, she blamed herself 
more bitterly than ever for going 
to sleep the night her mother 
died, and " losing her chance," , 
as she called it. If she had only i 






" Are yor sure it's rfeal singing, 
Molly ?" asked the little girl, as 
her sister seized her in her arms. 
"Ah, that it was; I could hear 
'em as plain as if I was in there. 
I heard 'em sing, 'Jesus loves 
even me!' Ain't that the sing- 
ing yer've been a- wanting to hear 
this ever so long? Look over there; 
yer can see Ine lights. Hark ! 
yer can hear 'em singing," and 
as Molly spoke, the words of the 
chorus sounded plainly — " Jesus 
loves even me !" and as Bab heard 
the words, shu bowed her head 
on her sister's shoulder and burst 
into tears. 

" Why, what's the matter,- Bab ? 
don't yer like it?" asked Molly, 
in astonishment. 

' Yes, yes. Make haste, Molly, 



kept awake, she would have been I and let us hear some more. It's 



not .once more dawned for the weary ready to go with whomever God i true, ain't it, what I told yer?" she 



workers of the world, meant 
nothing to the hundreds and 
thousands of our canal population 
who were journeying along the 
water-ways of our land. 

Bab had heard the bells ring 



and parlor for the whole family— dozens of times, but the message 
was enough to make inyboay ill;' they conveyed had so little to do 
and the poor barge .vomen ' had with boaters that she did not even 
some excuse for their drinking connect their sweet music with 



habits, believing as they did that 
gin alone would keep them from 
being ill. 

Molly could not endure the 
stifling little den, and went to 
play on the wharf or towing-path 
whenever she got the . opportu- 
nity. Bab noticed too that she 
mtnaged to keep her bottle well 
snpplied, and whenever she came 
into the cabin the bottle was 
brought into use. 

" Molly, don't yer b'lieve wot 
mother said 'bout that drinking ?" 
said Bab, one day, in a tone of ex- 
postulation. 

Molly "•i)r:;ied. "Yes, I do," 
she 3ai(i, ' a^ how boaters never 
I.- J ii wi'put taking a drop; 
ind I'lT ture iihe was right, for 
t MnijB (jre that aggrawatin', let 
<'.>n'.> the smell and the rats that 
'un about this "ere cabin. There's 
'ather alius gnimbling about 
omething, os though it wor my 
I lult he could get no cargo. " 

"Shall M'e b? here another Sun- 
day ?" Bab ventured to ask. 

'• Well, maybe we shall, and 
maybe we sha'n't ; but wot'e the 
good if we are? I tell you it'« 
all a mistake about yer thinking o' 
that singing and preaching being 
lor boaters. If it wor, why o' 
course there 'd be 8om<{bodv con e 
to tell us, such a hi-', nuart At> this 
IS, wi' fifty and p.»y be sixty bariif" 
tying up. No, lio ; ai' I saic* ...ore, 
these things ain'i .v^r 'is loalers, 
tiut for them as hus *.' u govins 
and bonnets and b> ' tn'iigs. 
borget all about >t, TJa',. uni' uav 
a drop o' gin now in' n\en. V\. 
give yer a drop when I (.. i spare 
it— that's the thing foi' boatert, 
yer know." 

But Bab shook h<?r head. She 
couid not forget tha.' one Sunday 
at the wharf and the many secret 
ccnf'orence* that had buen held 
botwMu he; mother ^wd herself 

•19 



the longing desire she felt to 
learn more about G-od, and 
whether He really did think of 
poor boaters, and would take care 
of her and Molly. 

Molly was included in this soli- 
citude now, for she could not but 
notice her sister's growing love 
for her mother's discarded old 
bottle, and "drink meant ruin," 
her mother had told her. So she 
was anxious that her sister should 
give up the habit, and if she 
could only be sure herself and 
convince Molly that Qod really 
cared for them and desired her 
to give up drinking gin, she 
would do it at once. 

She was thinking of this all 
day on Sunday, while the donkeys 
tramped along the towing-path. 
It was pleasanter for Bab to be on 
thu move ]ik>> 'his, for sometimes 
they caugk c glimpses of corn- 
lieldt an'' ^ees, with their yel- 
lowing '' ., and little patches 
of grass near the towing-path ; 
and it v/as vt.easanter to look at 
these things than the black slug- 
gish waer of ihecanal.that always 
remind' .'d her of the tinnelswben 
sue locked at it long, although 
they It ight be mii.-^s away from 
one. 

Bab always bad a creeping, 
si'.koning dread of tunnels, for if 
'iiei father was cross he would 
make Jack help him leg tlirough ; 
and there was always thj dread- 
ful thought that Jack or herfather 
might slip and be drowned before 
the other end was reached. This 
"'^...ult and dangerous task is 
performed by two men or boys 
lying flat m their backs upon 
btafis p'.aced near the head of 
the barge, something like wings, 
and pressing their- bare feet 
against the sides of the tunnel, 
thus propelling the barge. Hun- 
dreds hud been drowned in tbts 



sent io her, and Jack would not i asked, in a triumphant whisper ; 
have to leg through the tunnels | "they said plain enough as Jesus 
now, because there would be no 'loves us, didn't they?" 
useless mouth to fill. | •• Ah, but we dunno whether 

So the autumn passed away, 'it means boaters though," said 
and the dull, cold days of winter j Molly, as she hurried panting 
came, when Jack and her father along the towing-path io where 
were always cross and out of the light came streaming from the 



temper ; for tramping along the 
sloppy towing-path in the frost 
and sleet, with scarcely a bit of 
shoe to the foot, and only a rag 
of a jacket, that was wet through 
in five minutes, was very trying, 
especially for a boy who worked 
as hard as any man on the towing- 
path. Jack often grumbled about 
this, and when Bab heard it she 
always felt he was complaining 
of her. 

During these dreary weeks and 
months there had been several 
Sundays spent at various 
wharves; but the weather was 
too cold now for open-air services, 
so Bab had never gone to the logs 
since to watch and wait for some- 
body to tell her that God cared 
for poor boaters. But one Sun- 
day evening towards the close of 
the winter they tied up near a 
lock where some dozen other 
barges were fastened, and going 
to the towing-path to look round 
after her father and Jack had left 
the boat, Molly saw lights in a 
little building close by, and in- 
stantly ran to peep in at the win- 
dow and see what was going on. 
But she h.id not reached the place 
before some one inside opened the 
door and looked out, and with the 
opfinitig of the door came a Hood 
of light and the sound of voices 
singing. Molly stood spell-bound 
for a minute, listening as the 
\ oices rang out, "Jesus loves me ! 
Jesus loves even me!" Molly 
did not wait to hear any more ; 
she darted back to the boat, call- 
ing " Bab ! Bab !" as she picked 
her way along the cargo to the 
cabin stairs. 

" Bab, there's preaching and 
singing here," she said, as she 
rushed into the little cabin. 
"Come on; I'm going to put 
mother's shawl on yer, and take 
yer right in there ; I don't care 
for any on 'em, or their fine bon- 
nets eith6r. 



windows of the little building. 

When she reached the door, 
Molly opened it, and stagyored 
in with Bab ; and seeing a vacant 
seat near, she sat her little sister 
down, and then turned to look 
round. The singing was over, 
and a man at the other end of the 
room was speaking ; but Molly 
did not pay mnch attention to 
what he said, she was so amazed 
to find that the little congregation 
were almost all boaters. Some ol 
them were as poorly clothed as 
she and Bab, but they were 
listening with the greatest atten- 
tion to what the man was saying. 
Molly was too much occupied in 
looking round at the bright, 
cheery, little mission-room to 
listen at first, but at last her ear 
was caught by the words — "Yes, 
my friends, Jesus wants to be 
your Friend, if you will only let 
Him. He was the Friend of 
fishermeif when He was on this 
earth, so that He knows all about 
the trials and temptations of boat 
people, boys and girls, men and 
women ; and it is because He 
loves you that He asks you to give 
up drinking and swearing and 
fighting." 

Bab looked at Molly and 
nodded. The sad little face was 
almost glorified with its look of 
gladness. •' It's true, it's true," 
she whispered. " Yer won't 
drink any more gin now, will ver, 
Molly?" 

(To U Oonlinuid.) 




Ihe grass withcreth, the 
flower fa6eth, but the 

^ wot6 of our i5o6 shall 

^ staitb foreuer. 

IsA. 40 : S. 




^ r -At 



II 



a2 



REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



-®«4(Sj 



she had heard, and theru would 
be an end of this ; for she had 
often Baid that boaters drank gin 
becaosa there was no other com- 
fort for them, and nobody cared 
whether they drank or not; but 



ing forthem,8he would ihrowthe 
bottle away. Molly, indeed, real- 
ly promised to do this by-and-by. 

" But can't yer do it now, 
Molly," whispered Dab, in acoaz- 
iii(^ (one. 

•* Why, what's the hurry ? the 
bottle won't bite yer," said her 
sister. '■ I won't forget what 
we're heard, and I'll ask Jack not 



THE WATER WAIFS: 
A Story of Canal Barge Life. 

BY EMMA IjKSI.IE. 
{AvUur cf " KiUnlu Houu," tU.) 

Chapter IV. 

LEFT BEHfND. 

After that Sunday evening 
little Bab seemed to blossom into 
a new life. She would ^it and sinjf 
sottly toherselt as she sat in her 
corner by the cabin window, 
" JosuB loves me, Jetus loves me. " 
She knew no more ihan this, but 
it was enough for Dub. Her 
problem was solved, and she was 
content. While Molly was 
looking about her, taking 
slock of the room and (bote 
who were there, Bub wns 
listening' with all (he 
urtgeniessol a hungry soul, 
and whut she heard seem- 
ed like a me.-^aue sent 
direct irom God to her. 

" Perhaps, my friends," 
Bai') the misMonary, " yon 
may have thought that if 
Qod hated sin so much He 
would surely take us from 
a world where sin altounds. 
It woulil be easy lur Him 
to send a inesi-enger for 
each one ol us to-night, and 
carry us lis^ht out of (his 
(roublevoine world, lint 
Gud does not take care of 
his people in thai way. He 
wishes ihem tu stay hero 
that they may teach olhi-rs 
what they iheinselvetihave 
learued. The poorest and 
youngest may do some- 
thiiiir it (hey aie willing. 
Each can (ell a sister or a 
brother of the love of God, 
and help ihem lo over- 
come some sin. If one sees 
aiiothrr giviiisr way to 
temper, or atroiig drink, or 
crunlty lo (he poor hoises 
or donkeys, a kind, gentle 
word will olteii prove a 
check, and so God's work 
will he done, for it is in 
(his wny that lie desires 
us to v.i;k lor Ilim." 

Molly hi'ard nothing of 
this, fur rhe was sluiiiig in 
oj'eii-cyed wi^nder at the 
tr'ciipture prints and text 
hung ruumi the room ; but 
Hal) heard evi'ry word, nu<f, 
like Mary oloM, she " kept 
all these sayinirH jn |i,.r 

heart." Shf loigut \\v glomiiy 'to whnck (hem doiik"ys8o much 
liille cabin, will) itsniud betfriined he do beat 'cm nwliil somi'tiines.' 



' Oh yes, I'll take care o' little 
Bab for yer, but I can't bring her 
here just yet, 'cos she s got to 
'member things for Jack and 
Molly, and tell 'em if they forget.' 
That 'b what I've got to stop here 



now that there was no longer any { for, Moll," added the child, in a 
doubt about God loving and car- tone of infinite content. 



" Oh, Bab, you are a rum 'un ; 
I alius Baid vou was," exclaimed 
Molly. 

But Bab went on talking, 
partly to herself and partly to 
Molly, without noticing her 
sister's remark. " To think as 
God 'nil have a poor little 'un, 
what ain't good enough fof a 
boater to do work for Mim ! 




B.VB AMOVO THE DAISIES. 



flnor, f< r lier lieart was lull ol lh<* 
Ihoughi that God loved hor, and 
wanti'd h'-r lo be Ills xervant 
and do soim'lhmg [«r lli«. f^hi- 
was at no Idss to dfcide what this 
somelliing was. forbad not Mnllv 
grown so fond oi h'-r mothi-r's 
oM bodl' la'ely. that scire Iv a 
day p.i'Si'd now hut she had several 
si|i8 at it, iili'l ofti'ii hail (o lie 
down oiiJhi! Ilo'ir and goto sleep 
.'or some hours in the middle of the 
dav V 

Njw D.ib thought sho would 



Ain't that jist Ihi' queerest sort of 
(liing? Hut ain't it nice lor n 
'■ Yer'll tell him to bo l<iiid,' liiile 'uu like ine, what ain't good 
won't yer, Molly, and ax father! for nnyihing else '/" 



not to swi-nr 
speaks to yer?" 



every time he 



13ut, Bab, how yer talk ; sure 



wi'out yer, Bab, now. Why, yer 
aint hke no other boater gal— 'coa 
why — 'cos yer jist so quiet and 
never makes no rows and grum- 
blings, that yer like a little bit o' 
another world wot boaters never 
sees ; and I wouldn't part wi' yer 
for anything now," said Molly, 
tenderly smoothing down Bab's 
fair hair. 

It was wonderful toseethelittle 
tender, loving ways Molly had 
fallen into with her sister lately. 
To the rest of the world she was 
the rough, rude boater girl, ready 
to quarrel and hght with anybody 
who ventured to dispute her right 
to clear the towing-path, or have 
her own way in everything 
she chose. But to Dab she 
was gentle and kind ">.d 
tender, combing and curl- 
ing her hair as gently as her 
mother did, and taKIng al- 
most 08 much pride and 
pleasure in doing it. Any- 
thing she could do to please 
Bab was done without a 
murmur, so that it was not 
strange that the little girl 
fancied her victory over the 
bottle would be an easy 
one ; and for a little while 
sho thought it had been 
gained, for she saw no- 
thing of it, and hoped that 
Molly haa kept herpromise 
and thrown it into (he 
canal. But as the spring 
advanced, and that Sunday 
evening at the mission- 
room seemed to grow iuto 
a dim memory, Bab saw 
with surprise and ais- 
appointmen'. that the bot- 
tle was brought out of its 
h'ding' place once more ; 
and ' areful as her sister 
we- tocc, 1 the fact from 
ber, i'lab 1- " w that she had 
recomp't.iv.ec' the dreadful 
habit of drinking. 

Ball .--poke Ouco niorc, 
veiy yii.i )y and coaxingly, 
but Molly tun jd cross and 
denied it. Agnia the little 
sister begged and implored 
her to throw away the bot- 
tle, untilatlast Molly grew 
soansrry thatshethreatened 
to leave her behind 
on the towing path or 
wharf, a.sherrather wanted, 
ir she said anything about 
the bottle again. She did 
not mean to carry out this 
thnat, but it vexed her 
that B.I) should be sharp 
enouLii to f what sho thought 
was hidiien from everybody, and 
she resolved tu indulge herself 
only when Bal) was safely ploy- 



■ Lor. it ain't no good telling boater, bni maybi« yer'd be good 

NOMioni: rise if yer only 



father 'bout thit; boaters can't | for 

do wi'out swoniiiiLr." slid Molly ; know. d .^ot it wor.' 

" but III try and leave off, if it'll 

pl'-ase yon and I'll spe.ik lo Jnck 

about the d nkev-, if ver like." 

•• Oh yes. ilo, M >lly." snid Bib, 
" 'cos yer know (hat's why God 
didn't send for me when mother 
nx.'d Him that iiiuht. I know she 



^ only have to rcaiind Moliy of \vhat| did ax Him, and I .s'poso He said, 



often cirried her now. 

One inorniiiir in May, Molly 
came rnnniiig into (ho cabin, cx- 
clniminn. •• Here's n lark, Bab, (he 
steam-tug can't take us through 



the boat, and that wor me he 
meent. I'm glad I'm good for 
somelin'," concluded uab. 

" Why, course yer good for 
somelin'. I dunno wot I'd do 



stop hero all doy, Jack says." 
" Won't they " leg through ?" 

asked Bah. 
" The lock tender says they 

can't ; they're certain sure to gut 






'. 



onuf yer ain't no good lor a j ing on the towing i)alh, where she 



Ye.'i, the man said the poorest 
little 'mis could help work for 
God if they couldn't help work the tunnel, and we shall have to \ 




^Hm 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



33 



w. Why, yor 
later gal— 'ccw 

so quiet and 
iws and grum- 

a little bit o' 
boaters never 
I't part wi' yer 
" said Molly, 
t down Bab's 

toseethelittlo 
ys Molly had 
r sister lately, 
world she was 
iter girl, ready 
with anybody 
sputo her right 
•path, or have 
nn everything 
But to Bab she 
and kind "\d 
bing and curl- 
as gentlyasher 
and tilling al- 
ach pride and 
loiug it. Any- 
ald do to please 
one without a 
that it was not 
the little girl 
victory over the 
id be an easy 
>r a little while 
it it had been 
■ she saw no- 
and hoped that 
:ept herpromiso 
n it into the 
: as the spring 
md that Sunday 
; the mission- 
id to grow into 
nory, Bab saw 
rise und ois- 
'. chat the l.ot- 
mght out of its 
once more ; 
as her sister 
1 the fact from 
w that she had 
et' the dreadful 
inking. 

^e Oi.ce more, 

and coaxingly, 

an id cross and 

Agniii the little 

-d and implored 

V away the bot- 

ast Molly grew 

shothrt'atened 

?. hor behind 

wing path or 

Iher wanted, 

iiiylhin? about 

;iiin. She did 

carry out this 

it vexed hor 

bo sharp 

it she thought 

verybody, nnd 

dulpfH herself 

js siifely ploy- 

lath, whore she 

ow. 

Mny, Molly 
the cabin, ex- 
a lark. Cab, the 
;e us through 
shall have to 
Jack says." 
g through ?" 

Jer says they 
in sure to gut 



i 



drowndod if they tries, and so 
Jack says he won't try — he'll run 
away fust; so we're a-going to tie 
up, and I'm a-going to take yer 
to a lovely field jest t'other side 
o' towing path, where there's but- 
tercups a-growing, and yer can 
pick 'em, too, if yer like." 

Bab cla{>ped her hands with 
delight at the thought of picking 
"real flowers," and was dressed 
in her mother's old cotton sun- 
bonnet, and carried to the towing 
path. A high fence protected the 
field tiom the marauding little 
boaters in a general way, and 
when Bab saw it she said, ' ' But I 
can't get in there, Molly." 

" Not by yourself, but yer can 
go if I puts yer in ; and that's 
what I mean to do," said Molly, 

So saying, she seated Bab on the 
towing-path while she went to 
look lor a gap or a loose rail that 
she could pull away and slip Bab 
through. But the side next the 
towing-path was firm and com- 
pact everywhere, and it was not 
until she had walked some 
distance up the lane skirtin? 
another side that Molly discovered 
a weak place. Here a rail could 
be easily pushed aside, leaving 
ample room for a little mite like 
Bab to slip through. Molly saw 
this, and ran back instantly for her 
little sister. 

" Now, Bab, yer'll have a jolly 
time," she said, as she carried her 
up the lane ; " there's nothing 
but grass and flowers, and yer can 
crawl about or sit still and pick 
the daisies, or lay down and go to 
sleep. I'll bring yer dinner by- 
and-by, and I'll fetch yer as soon 
as the tug comes." 

" Yer won't forget me, Moll, 
will yer?" said Bab, a little 
apprehensively, as she looked 
back and saw how far they were 
from the canal. 

" Forget yer ? do I ever forget 
yer when I brings yer out 'o the 
boat for a bit ?" said Moll v. in an 
injured tone. 

Bab kissed her sister, and 
stroked the coarse tow-like hair. 
" Yer werry kind to me, Moll," 
she said ; " I wish mother could 
see how kind yer is. No, yer won't 
forg'et me, I know, and yer won't 
let father go away wi'out me." 

"Rightyerare, Bab. Don't I ali- 
us sticK up for yer ?" said Molly. 

" That yer do, Moll, and yer 
won't forget me now, will yer ?" 
repeated the child. 

" Course I won't — 'cos why — 
'cos, I couldn't stop aboard the 
boat wi'out yer now, Bab ;" and 
she kissed the little pale face in a 
way that quite assured poor 
little Bab. " Look, here we are. 
I can push this bit o' wood out o' 
the way, and then yer can slip 
through as easy as anything." 

" I wish yer could com too, 
Moll," said the little girl, t uer 
sister gently pushed hor th; h 
the broken fence. 

" I will if I can, by-and-by, but 
I must go and look arter the din- 
ner fust. There now, yer can pick 
the flowers and roll in the grass, 



and do what you like," said 
Molly, putting her head in .to 
look round. " It is a fine field," 
she added ; " good-by, Bab !" she 
called, as she turned away. 

" Good-bye," answered Bab ; 
" come back soon ;" and in antici- 
pation of that coming, she began 
to pink the golden buttercups. 
" I'll get a big bunch for Molly," 
she said half aloud — " a big bunch 
o' the very best in the field ;" and 
the little girl carefully selected 
the finest flowers that grew with- 
in her reach. But very soon she 
saw, or fancied she saw, that those 
a short distance ofl" were much 
better than those close at hand, 
and so she shiiffled herself along 
in a sitting posture — her only 
mode of locomotion — and soon 
began picking these. But near 
the middle of the field she saw 
some beautiful red-tipped daisies, 
and the golden buttercups were 
forgotten in her eagerness to 
reach these choicedaisics. White 
ones she had seen before grow- 
ing sometimes on the edge of the 
towing-path, but never such 
large pink-tipped beauties as these. 
Bab was in raptures of delight. 
She sat and looked at them ; then 
stooped and kissed them ; and 
when at last she began to pluck 
them, she diditmost carefully ana 
gently, for fear of spoiling the lit- 
tle fringe of delicate pink and 
white leaves. 

But after gathering a bunch of 
these, the unwonted exertion and 
fresh air made Bab feel so drowsy, 
she was glad to lie down on the 
grass, and before she had time to 
do more than place hor flowers 
carelully beside her, &ho was fust 
asleep. 

How long she slept she did not 
know ; she was too much 
astonished when she first 
woke to think of anything 
but her strange surroundings, 
until it slowly dawned upon her 
that Molly had said she would 
bringher dinner,and she suddenly 
became aware that she was very 
hungry. Then she picked up her 
flowers, and was surprised to sec 
how they hung down their heads. 
Had she only known it, this would 
have been sufficient to tell her she 
had been asleep several hours ; 
but she did not understand why 
they had withered. She did 
wisli, however, that Molly would 
bring her dinner, and at la.%t 
gathered up her flowers, ant^ 
began to shuffle towards the fence 
again, that she might put her head 
through the gap, and look down 
the lane for her sister. But it 
was not easy to find the place 
where she had got into the field. 
The rail had slipped back into its 
place, and one looked exactly like 
another, so that the poor child 
soon grew quite bewildered in 
her eflbrts to find the loose rail as 
she scudled up and down the side 
of the field, pushing first one and 
then another, and trying to 
squeeze hor head between the 
bars to get a peep down the lane. 

At last she grew so utterly 



weary of her fruitless effor's that ' 
she burst into tears, crying, j 
" Molly ! Molly ! why don't yer | 
come?" Then she looked all' 
round, growing more frightened] 
every minute.nntil she remember- [ 
ed that through the rails at the 
bottom she could see the canal 
and boat, and this gave her fresh 
courage ; she would make her 
way to the bottom of the field, 
and call Molly, and if she could 
not make her sister hoar, some- 
body else would be on the tow- 
ing-path, and go to the barge and 
tell her. So drying her eyes, and 
gathering up her flowers once 
more, she set off" on hor weary 
scuffle to the other end of the 
field, pausing mar.y times to rest 
on her way, and wondering all the 
time why Molly had not come to 
bring her dinner, and fetch her 
back to the boat. 

At last, after a journey that 
seemed very long indeed to poor 
Bab, unaccustomed as she was to 
moving about by herself, the fence 
ac the bottom of the field was 
reached, and dragging horself up 
on her knees, she looked eagerly 
through at the canal ; but to 
hor dismay, there was not a barge 
to be seen, and the towing-path 
was quite deserted. Poor Bab 
dropped back on the grass, too 
terror-stricken to cry at first. 
What she had lived in dread of for 
so long — what Molly had so often 
promised to protect her from —had 
happened at last : her fathei had 
left her behind ; the boat had 
gone away without her. She 
looked around the wide green 
field in helpless bewilderment ; 
then peeped through the fence 
once more, unable to believe as 
yet that Molly— her Molly, who 
had been so kind to her— had 
really forsaken her. 

But there was no room left for 
doubt as she gazed once more at 
the black sluggish water of the 
canal, for there was neither barge 
nor steam-tug to be seen ; and at 
last, wildly crying, "Molly! 
Molly ! Molly ! " poor Bab sank 
down upon the grass again, and 
burst into agonizing tears. She 
cried for some time, now and then 
calling, " Molly ! Molly !" but she 
grew quiet at last, except for an 
occasional seb, until she fell asleep 
from weariness and exhaustion. 
She slept for some time, and, when 
ehe woke she knew by the look of 
the sun that nighi. was drawing 
near ; yet she no longer felt so terri- 
bly afraid of being alone; astrange 
sweet peace came over her. All 
she had heard at the mission-room 
that Sunday evening came back 
to her mind with renewed fresh- 
ness, and she sang softly to her- 
sell, " Jesus loves me, Jesus loves 
me." And then some words she 
had heard that night, but which 
she had scarcely thought of since 
until now, arose in her memory. 
The missionary had said if any 
one was in trouble, and wanted 
God to help then. He would al- 
ways be willing to do it if they 
would only ask Him ; and then he 



had explained in a few simple 
words what prayer was. Bab 
remembered it all now, and sitting 
there on the grass, she put her lit- 
tle hands together, and added, 
" Please .lesus take care on me 
and let Molly come back soon 
Mother axed God to look arter mo 
the night she died, but He 
couldn't then, 'cos He wanted 
me to 'member things for Molly 
and Jack ; and I want ter be 
God's gal, and do His work for 
Molly and Jack and the donkeys, 
though I ain't good enuf for a 
boater, 'cos o' iny legs. Please, 
Jesus, take care on me somehow, 
for I'm hungry, and it's getting 
dark, and I don't like being out 
in the dark ; so please let Molly 
come soon, and take me back to 
the boat." Bab did not know 
what more to say, so she sat 
quietly looking round the field, as 
if expecting to see Molly at once. 
She was used to sitting still, and 
she sat and waited for half an 
hour without moving. Then, with 
a little sigh, she loolfed once more 
at the canal, saying softly to her- 
self, " The boat's gone, but 
Molly'll come back for me ; so 
I'll go and find the place, and be 
all ready for her when she 
comes." 

There was no doubt in her 
mind about her sister coming back 
now. She had done wha^ siie 
had been told to do — she had ask- 
ed God to take care of her — and of 
course Molly would come and tell 
her how it was the boat had gone 
without her. The daisies had shut 
up their sleepy eyes by this time, 
and Bab had no heart to keep 
what she had gathorod ; so she 
loft them behind as she started 
off once more in search ut the 
loose rail where she had got into 
the field. 

(To b4 Cjntinued.) 



HOW TO BECOME HAPPY. 

Many young persons are ever 
thinking over some new way of 
adding to their pleasures. Ihey 
always look for chances for more 
" fun," more joy. 

Once there was a wealthy and 
powerful king, full of care and 
very unhappy. Ho heard of a 
man famed for his wisdom and 
piety, and found him in a cave on 
the borders of a wilderness. 

" Holy man," said the king, " I 
come to learn how I may become 
happy." 

Without making a reply, the 
wise man led the king over a 
a rough path until he brought him 
to a high rock, on the top of which 
an eagle had built her nost. 

" Why has the eagle built hor 
nest yonder ?" 

" Doubtless," answered the 
king, " That it may be out of 
danger." 

" Then imitate the bird," said 
the wise man. " Build thy home 
in heaven, and thon thou shalt 
have peace and happiness." 



f 



n 



•» 






34 
THB 



WATER WAIFS 



REPRINTKD STORIES. FROM THK " NOTrrilEI{N MKSSENGER 
cido 



A Story of Canal Barge Life. 

BT EMMA LESLIE. 
(AmUut of " EUt>$Ut ifbuM," etc.) 

Chapter V, 
new friends. 

The slanting rays of the setting 
snn were shining into a pleasant 
little room where a lady sat with 
her hands folded and her eyes 
resting on a pair of soiled faded 
blue shoes — baby shoes, that no 
little feet wore now. The tears 
fell silently from the lady's oyes 
as she gazed at them, murmuring, 
" My darling would have 
been seven years old to- 
day if she had lived. Five 
years has she been with 
Ot d now, and no little feet 
will make music in o'- 
home again ;" and the lad^« 
covered her face with he: 
hands, and her tears fell 
faster than ever. 

She did nof hear the door 
open, but the next minute 
a voice said — " My wife 
will not grudge giving up 
her sweet flower when she 
knows it is but transplant- 
ed to God's garden above." 

" I am afraid I do, I am 
afraid I do," sobbed the 
lady. "There are so many 
children in the world that 
could be better spared 
than ours — our only one." 

" Hush, hush, my dear, 
we know not yet why 
God has taken our darling 
from us, but we may rest 
assured that it was done 
in tenderest love — love to 
her and love to us. But, 
come now, my dear, I want 
you to put on your bonnet 
and go with me for a drive 
this evening. I have a 
putient at the other end of 
the town I must see again 
to-night, and as it is such a 
pleasant evening, the drive 
will do you good." 

The lady looked once 
more at the little shoes be- 
fore she folded them in the 
silver paper to put away ; 
then, having carefully 
locked them up, she went 
and put on her bonnet. 
The gig stood at the door 
when she came down, and 
her husband was waiting 
to help her in, and soon they 
were driving through the town, 
and out by the canal, which was 
a mile or two beyond. 

" How beautiful that field of 
buttercups looks," said the lady. 

" Yea, that ' canal held' always 
makes a good show," remarked 
the doctor, as he gazed across at 
it. " Why, there's a child there!" 
he suddenly exclaimed, " How 
can she have got in ?" 

" I don't see any child," said 
Mrs. Ellis. 

" Whoa, ' Jennie,' " said the 

doctor, drawing the reins. " Look 

1 1 there, my dear, down by the fence, 



m-^ 



at the cido, there's a child lying 
on the grass " 

" Suppose we go and see abcut 
it, then," said :ae lady ; "perhaps 
the poor little thing cannot get 
out." 

So Jennie's head was turned 
towards the lane, and when they 
were near the spot where poor 
iSab was lying, the doctor got 
down and went close to the 
fence. 

" What are yon doing there, 
my child ?" he asked, in a gentle 
ton 

.ja started, and sat up, her 

ct bl '■yes filling with tears 

as sho said—" God ain't sent 



field and left you here ?" asked 
tly doctor. 

Bab nodded. " She went to 
get my dinner and she'll come 
soon now." 

"Poor child, poor child," said 
the gentleman, stepping back to 
speak to his wife, who still sat in 
.he chaise. 

"My dear, the poor child is 
deserted, I feel certain. She 
belongs to some of those barge 
people, and they have put her in- 
to the field and gone off and left 
her." 

" Oh, how dreadful !" exclaimed 
the lady. " What will become of 
her ? She cannot stay there all 




"'STAND UP AND COME TO ME," SAID MBS. ELLW.' 



Molly yet." " Who is Molly ?" 
asked the doctor. 

" She's Molly, and she's gone 
away in the boat , but I's axed 
Uod to take care on me, and so 
Molly'U come soon," said Bab. 

" Is Molly your mother ?" ask- 
ed the gentleman. 

Bab opened her eyes at the 
question. " Mother's gone to ax 
God to take care on me," she 
said. 

" But Molly is a boater, ( sup- 
pose ?" 

" Yes, she's a loat-raie boater," 
said Bab. 

" And she brought yon to this 



night." " No, certainly not. My 
dear, I wish you would iret down 
and speak to her," said the gentle- 
man. 

Mrs. Ellis soon made her way 
to the fence, and put her hand 
through, thinking the child would 
come to meet her. But Bab only 
opened her large blue eyes a little 
wider at the unwonted spectacle, 
for sho had never seen a lady be- 
fore, and Mrs. Ellis' gloves and 
pretty spring bonnet were things 
almost incomprehensible to Bab. 

" Sund up and come to me," 
said Mrs. Bllis, still holding out 
her hand. 



But Bab shook her head. "My 
legs ain't no good," she said. " I 
ain't no good neither, only to help 
God." 

" What does the child mean ?" 
said Mrs. Ellis, turning to her 
husband. 

" Are you lame, little one ? 
Can't yon walk ?" asked the 
doctor. 

Bab again shook her head. 
" Molly carried me here," she 
said. 

" And we must get you out 
somehow, that's certain," said the 
doctor, speaking partly to himself 
and partly to his wife. " Do you 
know where the gate is?" he ask- 
ed Bab. 

She shook her head. 
" There ain't no gate ; 
Molly found a hole — one 
o' these things moves, " said 
Bab. 

" There is a rail loose, 
she means," said the 
doctor. " Do you know 
where the hole is V he 
asked. 

Bab shuffled along for a 
little distance, with her 
eyes fixed upon the fence, 
the gentleman keeping 
pace with her on the other 
side. " I was going to see 
if there was another barge 
come, but I found the hole 
fust," said Bab ; and in a 
minute or two she spied 
the loose rail again, and 
exclaimed, " There it is, 
there it is !'' 

Mr. Ellis pushed it aside, 
and said — " Now we will 
soon have you out. Come 
along, 'little one ; I'll lift 
you over." 

But Bab drew back as 
the doctor held out his 
arms. " Molly'll come 
presently," she said — " I'm 
a-waiting for Molly." 

The doctor shook his 
head. "Poor child," he 
said, " I'm afraid you 
won't see Molly any more, 
for she's gone away in the 
barge and left yon." 

" But the man said as 
God 'ud take care on me, 
if I axed Him," said Bab; 
" and I did, an' I'm wait- 
ing for Molly now." 

" But suppose God has 
sent me to take care of you 
instead of Molly ?" said 
the doctor, glancing at his 
wife, who stood close by his side. 
" God has sent us to you, dear 
child," said the lady, hastily wip- 
ing away the tears that had 
gathered in her eyes ; and gently 
pushing aside her hus'band, she 
stooped down and held out her 
arms through the gap in the fence. 
" Come to me dear," she said ; 
" Qod. has xent me to you, I am 
sure." 

" But why didn't He send 
Molly ? I axed Him to send 
Molly," said Bab, beginning to 
whimper. 

" God does not always send as x 
the very thing we ask for, but He j | 




-«HB| jH9 



ir head. "My 
she said. " I 
r, only to help 

child mean ?" 
ning to her 

, little one? 
' asked the 

k her head, 
e hete," she 

get yon out 
tain," said the 
rtly to himself 
fe. *' Do you 
teis?" heask- 



k her head. 
I't no gate ; 
. a hole — one 
« moves," said 



a rail loose, 
," said the 
)o you know 
hole is 1" he 

ed along for a 
ce, with her 
)on the fence, 
lan keeping 
!r on the other 
u going to see 
another barge 
found the hole 
lab ; and in a 
wo she spied 
il again, and 
" There it is, 

ushed it aside. 
Now we will 
Come 
I'll lift 



>u out. 
one ; 



tr 



1, 



Irew back as 
beld out his 
olly'll come 
e said — " I'm 
Molly." 
shook his 
child," he 
afraid yon 
5lly any more, 
e away in the 
't you." 
man said as 
care on me, 
said Bab ; 
an' I'm wait- 
now." 

)ose God has 

ie care of you 

lolly ?" said 

ancing at his 

by his side. 

to you, dear 

hastily wip- 

s that had 

; and gently 

usband, she 

leld out her 

in the fence. 

" she said ; 

to you, I am 

t He send 
im to send 
eginning to 

/ays send us 
for, but He 

m* 



REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER.' 



\l 



often gi\'eg us somethip<; better, 
though we may not think 80 at the 
tim«. Ton are disappclnted, dear 
child, that Molly has not come to 
you ; but you will come to us, and 
let UB take care of you instead ?" 

" Did Qod really send you ?" 
asked Bab. 

" Yes, dear, I feel sure He did ; 
and you will come with us, won't 
you r 

Bab nodded. "Till Molly 
comes," she said; andsheshuflSed 
forward to the gap, and allowed 
herself to be lifted through with- 
out any further demur. 

" We must take her home with 
us," said the lady, turning to her 
husband, and speaking quite 
decidedly. " I feel as though God 
had spoken with an audible voice, 
and said, 'Take this child and 
nurse it for Me.' " 

" Then we will take her home 
at once, dear," said the doctor ; 
and helping his wife into the 
chaise.-he wrapped his light over- 
coat round Bab, and lifted her up 
afterwards. 

Poor Bab was too tired and 
hungry to wonder much about all 
this. She lay still in Mrs. Ellis's 
arms occasionally opening her 
eyes and looking up at her new 
friend's gentle face ; but she 
scarcely moved until the town was 
reached and she caught sight of a 
baker's shop. Mrs. Ellis, who was 
watching her little pale face, saw 
the look that came into her eyes at 
the sight of the bread, she whis- 
pered, " Are you hungry, dear." 

' Not much ; I can wait," said 
Bab patiently. 

"To be sure the child is 
hungry," said Mr. Ellis, stopping 
the horse. " I remember she told 
me this Molly was to bring her 
some dinner, so of course she ha9 
had nothing to eat all day." 

" What shall I get for her, my 
dear ?" 

" Some light biscuits and milk 
will be best. If she eats a little 
now we may give her a proper 
meal before she goes to bed." 

So the biscuits and milk were 
bought, and poor Bab would have 
eaten them much faster than was 
good for her, for she was very 
hungry ; but when Mrs. Ellis told 
her she must eat them slowly at 
first, just a little bit at a time, 
she did exactly as she was told, 
although she >vould have liked to 
have put the biscuits into her 
mouth one after the other as fast 
as she could, she was so hungry. 
Before they reached home Bab 
had finished her meal, and was 
fast asleep, and Mr. and Mrs. Ellis 
were discussing what they had 
better do with the child 

Tho first thing to be provided 
was clothes ; for the lady had 
noticed that those Bab had on 
were very dirty, as well as ragged, 
and she had made up her mind 
to burn them at once ; but the 
doctor said, " No, no, my dear, the 
clothes must not be destroyed. 
Her friends mav come in search 
of her, and the clothes might prove 
useful in identifying her." 



" Do you really think they will 

to take her away from us?" 

the lady, anxiously. " She 

has beer to wofully neglected, 

you see."' 

" No, I don't think her friends 
will ever trouble themselves about 
her again. Her mother is dead, 
you see, and the child being lame 
would always be a burden upon 
the father. I am almost certain I 
have seen the child's face before 
somewhere. Her pathetic blue 
eyes struck me as familiar the 
moment I saw them, but I cannot 
recall where I have seen her. 
No, dear, we had better keep her 
old clothes ; but what will you do 
about getting new ones ?" 

" I think I will go and speak to 
Mrs. Wilson as soon as I get 
home. She may be able to lend 
me a few of Lena's old things, 
until she is claimed or I can buy 
her new ones. Oh, I do hope no 
one will want to take her from us 
again, for I have learned to love 
her already ; she is such a sweet 
little thing." 

" Very unlike most boaters' 
children, certainlj," said Mr. Ellis, 
" and I don't think she is likely 
to be claimed ; but still, we must 
leave that in God's hands, and do 
what we can for her while we 
have her. I wonder where she 
has learned that God would take 
care of her ; for these barge people 
are such a dreadful set, and so 
ignorant that they have seemed 
Myond hope of reclaiming." 

"Well, somebody has taught 
this poor little mite to believe that 
God loves her, and will take care 
of her, and I am glad of it ; and 
it maybe the rest are not so hope- 
lessly bad as they seem. Here we 
are at home !" exclaimed Mrs. 
Ellis, as Jennie stopped at the 
doctor's gate. He jumped down 
and took the child from his wife's 
arms, and then helped her to 
descend. 

" I'll walk on to Mrs. Wilson's 
at once, if you will take her in and 
put her on the sofa, I won't be 

fone long, and when I come back 
will give her a bath before I put 
her in clean clothes." 

Mrs. Ellis would not ask her 
servants to do this for Bab at first, 
for they might not like it, and 
moreover, she w'anted the child to 
feel that she had taken a mother's 
place towards her. She soon came 
back from her friend's with the 
requisite change of clothes, and 
Bab was undressed, Mrs. Ellis ex- 
pecting to find her very dirtv ; 
but to her surprise she found she 
had been well cared for in this 
respect, dirty and ragged as her 
clothes were, and that there would 
be no need to cut off her hair. 
Molly had washed her and comb- 
ed and brushed her hair she 
heard, and she was more puzzled 
than ever, seeing this evidence of 
Molly's care, to account for her 
being left in the field. 

Bab was puzzled, too, that Mollv 
did not come; but she was so much 
occunied in looking at all the 
strange things around ker, she 



had not much time to think about 
Molly now. After her bath she 
was arrayed in a pretty white- 
frilled nightdress that to Bab was 
such a marvel of beauty that she 
did not like to go to bed in it, for 
fear of spoiling it. Then the house 
itself seemed a wilderness of 
rooms, and each room so much 
beyond anything Bab had seen be- 
fore, that the whole was like 
what a palace in fabled fairyland 
would be to an ordinary child. 

When she was ready for bed a 
servant brought a basin of bread 
and milk for her ; but Bab could 
scarcely eat it for looking at the 
wonderful things around her, all 
so unlike the dirty little cabin that 
had always been her home. 

Mrs. Ellis certainly expected 
to see her kneel down, or put her 
hands together in prayer, before 
going to bed; but the child 
evidently knew nothing about 
this, and looked up in her friend's 
face in wondering amazement 
when she said, " Won't you say 
your prayers, my dear ?" 

"What are prayers?" asked 
Bab. 

" My dear, you know quite well, 
for you told me yon nad been 
praying to Gh>d to take care of 
you when you were in the field." 

But Bab shook her head. "I 
don't know what prayers is,'' she 
said. , 

"But, my dear, you told me 
you had been asking Gtod to take 
care of you when you were in the 
field," said Mrs. Ellis. 

" Oh yes ; the man said as Jesus 
loved us and 'ud take care on us, 
if we only axed him ; and I did, 
and then He told you to come 
and get me out." 

" Well, my dear, asking God 
for anything is praying," said Mrs. 
Ellis ; " And God likes us to ask 
Him every day for what we 
want." 

" But I ain't in the field now, 
and I don't want nothing, only 
Molly," argued Bab. 

•' Well, dear, but wouldn't you 
like to thank God for taking care 
of you, and bringing you here ?" 

" I dunno yet ; but I want 
Gt>d to take care o' Mollv and 
Jack.and the donkeys. God loves 
donkeys as well as bioaters," added 
Bab. 

" Then you should ask God to 
take care of these friends;" and 
Mrs. Ellis taught the little girl 
how to kneel and put her hands 
together, but let her use her own 
words of prayer, for she felt they 
would be more real to her than any 
form of words that she could teach, 
at least for the present. 

(To bt Gontmued.) 



35 T 



BEFORE PENS. 

The chisel vraa employed for 
inscribing on stone, wood, and 
metal. It was so sharpened as to 
suit the material operated on, and 
was dexterously handled by all 
early artists. "The style, a sharp- 
pointed instrument ofmetol, ivory, 
or bone, was used for writing on 



wax tablets. The style was un- 
suitable for holding a Unid,hence a 
species of reed was employed for 
writing on parchment. These 
styles and reeds were carefully 
kept in cases, and the writer* had 
a sponge, knife and pumice stone, 
compasses for measuring, scissors 
for cutting, a puncheon to point 
out the beginning and the end of 
each lino intc columns,a glass con- 
taining Ban*d, and another with 
writing fluid. These were the 
chief implements used for 
centuries to register facts and 
events. Reeds continued to be 
used till the eighth century ,though 
quills were known in the middle 
of the seventh. The earliest 
author who uses the word penna 
for a writing pen is Isadorus, who 
lived in that century ; and toward 
thn end of it a Latin sonnet, " To a 
Pen," was written by an Anglo- 
Saxon. But though quills were 
known at this period, they came 
into general use very slowly ; for 
in 1433 a present of a bundle of 
quills was sent from Venice by a 
monk with a letter in which he 
says : " Show this bundle to 
Brother Nicolas, that he may 
choose a quill." The only other 
material to which we would refer 
is ink, the composition and colors 
of which werevarious. The black 
was made of burnt ivory and the 
liquor of the cuttle fish. We are 
not prepared to say what other 
ingredient was used, or how it 
was manufactured, but these 
ancient manuscripts prove that 
the ink was of a superior descrip- 
tion. Red, purple, silver, and 
gold inks were used. The red 
was made from vermilion and 
carmine, the purple from the 
murex, and the manufacture of 
these, especially the gold and 
silver varieties, was an extensive 
andlucrative business. — Chambers' 
Journal. 

m 

A REMARKABLE NEST. 

The cow-bunting of New 
England never builds a nest. The 
female lays her eggs in the nests of 
those birds whose young feed like 
her own on insects and worms, 
taking care to deposit but one egg 
in a nest. A cow-bunting deposit- 
ed an egg in the nost of a spar- 
row, in whigh was one egg of the 
latter. On the sparrow's return 
what was to be done ? She could 
not get out tho egg which belong- 
ed to her, neither did she wish to 
desert her nest, so nicely prepared 
for her own young. What did 
she do ? After consultation with 
her husband, they fixed on their 
mode of procedure. They built a 
bridge of straw and hair directly 
overthe two eggs, making a second 
story in the home, thus leaving 
the two eggs below out of tho 
reach of the warmth of her body. 
In the upper apartment she laid 
four eggs, and reared her four 
children. In the museum at 
Salem, Mass., may be seen this 
nest, with two eggs imprisoned 
below. — Evangelist. 




^ 



36 



REPRINTED 



THE WATER WAIFS ; 
A Story of Canal Barge Life 



STORIE S. FROM 
" To 



m* 



THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



sing ?" " To the towing-path, 
my dear !" exclaimed the lady. 
" Wh«t do vou mean ?" 

" Why, there's lots of boaters 
that want to learn hymn8,only they 
can't," said Bab ; nnd then she 
told Mrs Ellis of that Sunday she 
spent at the wharf waitint^ and 
watching for some one to come 
nnd teach her a hymn, or tell her 
that God would take care of her, 
The tears rose to the lady's eyes 
as she listened to Bab's account 
ot how Molly had coaxed Jack 
Knives and forks, to hurry.the donkeys on, that they 
saucers, spoons and might spend the Sunday at the 



lay 
the 



" But, my dear," said Mrs. Ellis, 
" you can learn to sing hymns 
here, and we are going to take you 
to church with us next Sunday. 
I was talking to the doctor about 
it only yesterday, and he thinks 
you may go with us now." 

" But I want to go to the tow- 
ing-path as well," said Bab, '■ 'cos 
Molly is going to be there." 

The lady looked at tlie child, 
wondering whether she could 
have seen or heard from her sister 
lately, but judging that such a 
thing was quite impossible she 
said — " My dear, your sister is not 



J^^i^\ 



^.1-,/ 



BT EMMA LESME. 
{Author of " ElUnlic Hmm," tic.) 

Chapter VI. 

BAB'd FAITH. 

My readers may perhaps expect 
to hear that Bab was wonderfully 
happy in her new home, but it 
was not so. She felt lost and be- 
wildered by her strange sur 
roundings. 
cups and 

plates, were a burden to poor Bab, I wharf, and how bitter the disap-j likely to come to this neighbor 
who had been used to make hcrlpointmentwas when noonocamt hood — come near here, I mean." 
own fingers do duty for 
all these. So also were 
the chairs and couches, for 
•he had been used to 
crouch in the corner by the 
cabin-window, and keep 
her unfortunate little legs 
out of sight as much as 
possible ; but now she was 
told she must not double 
her legs under her, bni 1 
flat on her back as mr<' 
as possible, for the doctor 
hoped that with care she 
might outgrow tlie \"eak- 
ness that had caused T 'i 
lameness, as there was n. 
malformation of the limbs. 
Then Bab's different 
clothes were anything but 
an unmitigated pleasure 
to her, not that she delight- 
ed in dirt.bnt the few loose 
rags she had always worn 
were to her far more com- 
fortable than the pretty, 
neat little frocks, that fitted 
her so closely, and which 
she was in constant fear of 
spoiling. But, by degrees, 
this uncomfortable sense of 
having clothes on, began 
to wear off, and then the 
doctor and Mrs. Ellis were 
so kind that Bab at length 
commenced to enjoy some 
things in her new life. 
She liked learning to read 
and to sew, but her 
especial delight was to lie 
on the couch, listening to 
Mrs. Ellis when she play- 
ed the piano, and sang 
some simple hymns. Bab 
was very quick at learn- 
ing these, too. She had 
soon learned all the words 
of " Jesiis loves me," and 
several others, and would 

join Mrs. Ellis in singing them to sing or preach. "Oh dear, 
whenever they were by them- how shocking ! I will talk to the 
selves, for she had soon lost all doctor about it as soon as he comes 
fear of the gentle lady, who was home," said the lady, 



^^^^:W, 



.^,^i.^«r 



I CAN'T- J CANT UO AWAY FROM YOU. 



so kind and loving to her,although 
she was still rather shy of the 
doctor. 

In this way some weeks nossed. 
Nothing was heard of Molly, and 
Bab so seldom mentioned her 
now, that her friends began to 



But couldn't we go now ?" 
said Bab ; " there's sure to be a 
lot of boats tied up, and it's sing- 
ing boaters like best." 

" I'll tiilk to the doctor," replied 
Mrs. Ellis, " when he comes home, 
and I fi.'el sure he will go himself 



hope she was gradually forgetting .or get sombody to go next Sunday 
her old life, until one evening, | and have a service for the 
when they had been singing as. boaters." 

usual, Bab started up all at once, "And you'll ask him to take 
and exclaimed—" Couldn't we go me, won't you ?" said Bab, coax- 
down to the towing-path and'ingly. 



"Oh, yes, she will !" said Bab, 
confidently. " You told me to 
pray to God about Molly, and I 
have, and He's sure to send her 
to mo soon ; so I must go to the 
towing-path, and be ready for 
her." 

Mrs. Ellis looked a little disap- 
pointed OS Bab said this. 

"My dear Barbara, are you not 
happy here ?" she asked, anxious- 
ly. " Would you like to go away 
and leave me now ?" 

This view of the matter was 
apparently a new one to Bab. 
She had never thought that to 
go with Molly she must leave her 



new friend. She raised herself 
from the couch where she had 
been lying, and held out her arms 
towards Mrs. Ellis ; and when 
the lady seated herself beside her, 
she flung her arms round her neck 
and burst into tears. " I can't — I 
can't go away from you, "she said; 
" and maybe father wouldn't let 
me go on the boat now, 'cos he 
always was wanting to lose me. 
But I must see Molly— oh, I must 
see Molly ?" 

" My dear, you shall see her if 
we can find her," said Mrs. Ellii^, 
scarcely knowing what she said, 
in her anxiety to comfort the poor 
child. 

" You'll take me to the 
towing-path, or else to the 
field, won't you? 'cos. Molly 
is sure to come and look 
for me there." 

" Who is that wants to 
go back to the held again 
— not my little Barbara, 
surely ?" said the cheerful 
voice of the doctor, who 
had entered the room in 
time to hear Bab's last 
words. 

" I want Molly, please ; 
I want you to take 
me to Moll y," said 
the little girl, in an im- 
ploring tone, but still 
clinging fast to Mrs. Ellis. 
"Why, what is this ? we 
have not heard anything 
about Molly for a long 
time," said the gentleman, 
seating himself on the sofa 
beside his wife. 

" I've been asking God 
all the time to bring Molly 
back, and I know she'll 
come spon, if we go and 
sing on the towing-path, 
'cos she likes singing, Molly 
does, and she wanted to 
hear the man at the wharf, 
like I did." 

Then Mrs. Ellis told her 
husband what she had 
heard from Bab about her 
and Molly waiting all day 
for some one to hold a 
mission service at the 
wharf, and how they had 
watched and waited in 
vain. 'Poor little Bab! If I 
had only known it, I would 
have come myself and talk- 
ed to you, and sang to you," 
said the doctor.kissiug her. 
" There's a lot more 
boaters left," said the 
child. 

" Not many like you, my little 
Barbara, I think." 

" I ain't no good for a boater ; 
but there's lots that ain't heard 
about Jesus loving them. Won't 
you go and singtnem that hymn 
what tells 'em about it ?" asked 
Bab, anxiously. 

"She wanted me to go tonight 
and sing to these poor children," 
said Mrs. Ellis, smiling. 

" Well, we can hardly go to- 
night, my little Barbara, but I will 
certainly see if anything can be 
done for these poor barge children, 
and without delay, too. I think I 



; 



, 



^ 



ik. 



^- 



ink I \\\ 




REIMUNTED STORIES, FROM THK -NORTHERN MKSSENOER." 



raised herself 
rhere she had 
d out her arms 
8 ; and when 
self beside her, 
round herneck 
I. " I can't— I 
yea, "she said; 
r wouldn't let 
; now, 'cos he 
ig to lose me. 
ly — oh, I must 

shall see her if 
laid Mrs. Ellis 
vbat she said, 
imfort the poor 

ake me to the 
, or else to the 
OH? 'cos, Molly 
ime and look 

that wants to 
he field again 
little Barbara, 
d the cheerful 
( doctor, who 
1 the room in 
ar Bab's last 

Molly, please ; 
'ou to take 

oil y," said 
irl, in an im- 
le, but still 

to Mrs. Ellis, 
tiat is this ? we 
eard anything 
Y for a long 
he gentleman, 
elf on the sofa 
ife. 

in asking God 
.0 bring Molly 

know she'll 
f we go and 

towing-path, 
singing, Molly 

) wanted to 

at Ihe wharf, 

Ellis told her 
lat she had 
lab about her 
aiting all day 
le to hold a 
vice at the 
ow they had 
waited in 
ittleBab! If I 
Kn it, 1 would 
self and talk- 
sang to you," 
ir.kissing her. 
lot more 
said the 

ou, my little 

for a boater ; 

ain't heard 
hem. Won't 
n that hymn 

it ?" asked 

ogo to night 
lor children," 

ardly go to- 
ra, but I will 
hing can be 
rge children, 
|>o. I think I 









have heard that a good muuv 
boats stop here on Sunday. I will 
make inquiries, and if so, I will 
certainly try a little Sunday- 
school or mitwion service down 
there. Good-night, mv darling," 
said the doctor, as the servant 
came to carr>y Bab to bed. " We 
will have a Sunday-school for the 
little boat-children very soon." 
And long after Bab was asleep, the 
doctor and his wife sat talking of 
this, and the little water waif that 
bad been so strangely brought 
under their care. 

Mrs. Elli?' greatest dread was 
that Bab should be claimed, and 
the child's passionate longing for 
Molly disturbed her a good deal ; 
and when tile plans for beginning 
a Sunday-school on the canal bank 
had been discussed for some time, 
she came back to this trouble 
once more. " I should like to 
know what sort of a girl this 
Molly is," said the lady. 

" We have not heard anything 
akoutherforsometime. Ithoug.it 
our Barbara had forgotten all her 
relations," said the doctor. 

" She has thought about the an, 
I fancy, although she has not talk- 
ed of them," said Mrs. E'.lis. 
" But now about this girl— this 
Molly. I'am afraid the child will 
never be happy until she h'.ars of 
her." 

" But, my dear, I thoug it your 
greatest fear was lest our little 
waif should be claimed." said Mr. 
Ellis. 

" Well, yes, it is; and somehow 
I feel sure this Molly did not leave 
her in the field, intending to 
desert her. She loved the child, 
I am certain, and I should like 
her to know she is safe and well 
cared for." 

" That she might come and take 
her away from us— she would 
have the right, you know, my 
dear," said the doctor. 

" Yes, I do know, and I am 
afraid she would want the little 
darling back," said Mrs. Ellis ; 
" but still I have been thinking of 
it all, and — and I do think 
we ought to try and find her. 
She loved our little Barbara be- 
fore we did, and she will grieve 
for her loss, perhaps as much as I 
should, and I think she ought to 
know where she is. Perhaps she 
would let her stay with us, for 
Bab says her father wanted to 
lose her, she knows." 

Mr. Ellis sat thinking for a few 
minutes, and at last he said, " I 
believe yon are right, my dear, 
and I will make inquiries abont 
this Uolly. Perhaps we ought to 
have done so before." 

" I think we ought ; I am sure 
it is right we should do so now, 
although it is hard to think we 
have to give up the child to go 
back to such a life ;" and the lady 
sighed as she thought how much 
Bab had improved already in 
looks and speech, and how doubly 
painful the dirt and misery of her 
former lot would be to her now, 
if she should have to go back and 
live on the barge. "This is the 



hardest thing I ever had to do, I 
think," tfce said, after a minute's 
silence ; " It seems like pushing 
her back into misery, with my 
own hands ; and yet it is right, I 
feel sure it is right." 

" And being so, our duty is 
plain, and we muse trust in God 
for the rest," said the doctor, yet 
scarcely able to repress a sigh him- 
self, as he thought of poor Bab ; 
for if this Molly really loved the 
child, she would certainly wani to 
take her from them. 

" What will you do ? where 
will you make inquiries?" asked 
Mrs Ellis, after a pause. 

" I will try and ses the mon 
who has charge of the lock to 
morrow, and ask him if he has 
heard anything of a chilit being 
lost — ifa girl has 'uc^n rjakingin- 
qniries for one." 

" And you will tell him where 
we found our little darling ?" 
asked Mrs. Ellis. 

" Certainly, my dear ; I must 
tell him the whole affair, and 
where the child may be found, if 
any of tier friends should come 
and inquire for her. We must do 
that ; it ought to have been done 
before ; and then, whatever the 
result may be, we must believe it 
will be for the best — the best for 
Barbara as well as ourselves," said 
the doctor. 



He did not think much of poor 
Mollv in the affair, as to what 
would be best /or her ; but Bab 
thought little of anybody else 
except Moll^, and prayed for her 
night and morning, that God 
would take care of her and bring 
her back soon. 

She did not know of the in- 
quiries that wore being made by 
the doctor, until one day, when 
she was sitting on Mrs. Ellis' 
knee, the lady said, " Barbara, 
my dear, we have heard some- 
thing about Molly." 

" Oh, where, where is she?' 
asked Bab, tossing her curls back, 
and looking round towards the 
door, expecting to see Molly there. 

" We have not seen her, my 
dear, but we havb heard about 
her," said the lad/, tenderly 
smoothing back the long fair 
curls, and kissing the little eager, 
upturned face. " She came 
back to. look for you in the SpUI, 
and " 

" I knew she would, I knew 
she would." interrupted Bab, 
eagerly. " I knew Molly would 
come. Where is she now ?" she 
suddenly asked. 

" She went back to the barge, 
we think. She asked the lock- 
keeper if he had seen a litiio girl 
—her little Bab she called you, so 
that we know it must be Molly." 



37 V 



i m\ ht ^mmi 



•• I ttakll iMMtUflad, whaa I awmlM, with Ukj lUunMa."-Pii. IT ; U 
El. Nathah. Jambs McORAnAHAS. 



^^^^^m 



1. Bool of mine, in carth-Iy tem-ple, Wliy not here con - tent •• bidef 

2. Soul of mine, my heart is cling-ing To the earth's fair pomp and pride; 

3. Soul of mine, ninst 1 sur • ren-der, See my-self aa em - ci - fied ; 

4. Sonl of mine,con- tin-lie pleadine;Sin re-bnl(e, and fol - ly chide: 

, , -r' r- r- rr -r^ ■ ■*■ ^ -r U r'. -r t r . t r-jgy . 



-=^ 



Why art thou for • er - cr pleading? Why art thou not sat ■ is - fled? 

Ah, why dost then thus re-prove me? Why art thou not sat - is - fied? 

Tnmfromall of earth's am - bi-tion, That thou may'et be sat - is-fled? 

I ac-ceptthe cross of Je • sns, That thou may 'st be sat - is - fled. 




I Bhsll be sat-is fled, I shall be aatiified, 

I shall be Bal-is-fled, I shall be aliiM, I shall be satisfied, < 




When I a-wake in his likeness, I shall be sat-isfied, 

I shall be sat-iBfied, 

ft* 




I shall be satis-ficd, When I awake in his like 

I shall be satis-fled. I shall be satis-fled, 




• Tba suthor hsn rsatorss this ekonii la in eriUBal Isna, wbloa ha racatds ss much Iwtlss. 



" When did shs f^me ?" asked 
the child. 

" We think it must have bien 
ihe day after we found you," said 
Ihe lady. 

" And I wasn't there— oh, why 
wasn't I there, why didn't Molly 
come here ?" and poor Bab burst 
into tears at the bitter thoi.;jht ol 
having missed her sister when 
she came to search for her. 

" Don't cry, my darling ; you 
will see Molly some day soon, for 
the lock-keeper has promised to 
toll all the barge-people that a lit- 
tle girl named Bab was found 
here, and then when Molly hears 
of it, she will come and ask him 
again where you are, and he will 
tell her where to find you." 

Bab smiled through her tears. 
" God will takecar« ; '''>"y, and 
bring her to .-ne, . /'iv ' she 
said ; " a'ld I'll o, > ,at a 

dear mama you Hi" iien, 

IE another thought 0'.'»i ' '■ sr, 
she threw her arrp; i . • .. t ts. 
Ellis' neck, and ex dauei » • ' I 
can't go away with' t ^ -i t 
Molly takes me, you';! cOia .ic 
won't you ?" 

Mrs. Ellis smiled as shv i '. t^e 
I the eager little face. lU dea . 
you forget I never ivt- on j 
barge," she said. 

"And you wo d i.-^i >t /i., !> 

no, you woulun't lil .^ v,' • ( 

, Bab, all .at once riimeni^ ••.■..g 

something of the miisery of that 

almost forgotten time. 

"And you would not li! i it now, 
my darling, I think,' said the 
Itidy, a little anxiously. 

Bab shook her head. She was 
beginning to apprecin te the com- 
forts and refinementfi of her new 
home, and the thoug.'it of the dirty, 
close little cabin made her shud- 
der, as she thought of going back 
to it. " What shall I do V" she 
said. " Molly will want me to 
go back, I know." 

"We will ask God about it,dear, 
and he will tell us what we 
ought to do. We must do what 
is right, you know, not what will 
please us best." 

Bab nodded, and then, after a 
pause she said, " I wish Molly 
wasn't a boater, and then she 
could stay here ; but she's a first 
rate boater, you know, and so she 
wouldn't like it." 

Bab eviiiently thought the 
occupation of a boater superior 
to till others, and Mrs. Ellis did 
not attempt to correct this notion, 
for she bad no idea of taking 
Molly into her heart and home, as 
she had taken this helpless little 
waif and she could not raise 
hopes of this, even to pacify Bab, 
so she said " Now, my dear, we 
will ask God to take care of us, and 
manage this difficult business as 
He sees to be best. Only I thought 
you would like to know that 
Molly had not forgotten you, as 
we feared." 

"I knew Molly hadn't forgot- 
ten me. Molly won't forget poor 
little Bab," said the chud, con- 
fidently. 

ITo h* Oontinvtd.) 



^t49 



m^ 



i^ 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTH KRN MESSENGER." 



THE WATER WAIFS: 
A Story of Canal Barge Life. 

BT KHHA LESLIE. 

^Aulhor of " EUarilit Hoim," 4U.) 

Chapter YIL— holly's re- 
turn AND REFOBUATION. 

Early in the aatamn a boat- 
man's misaion-room waa opened 
near the lock, for Dr. Ellis had 
very soon interested some friends 
in the neglected condition of the 
poor boatera, and an effort was at 
once made to do something to 
remedy this ; and it was arranged 
that the doctor and a few other 
friends should in turn con- 
duct a Sunday evening 
service, tw well as an oc- 
casional service during the 
week, at the mission-room. 
There was to be a Sunday- 
school also for the children, 
which Mrs. Ellis readily 
agreed to manage, and she 
promised that Bab should 
go with her sometimes, to 
help her with the singing ; 
for the little girl was al- 
most wild about this, and 
could talk of little else now 
than singing to the boat- 
ers in the new school- 
room. 

Bab was so happy and 
so excited that she could 
scarcely keep herself 
from ringing aiond, "Jesus 
loves me," as they drove 
alon<^ the road ; and she 
scarcely saw anything 
they passed, in her 
eagerness to reach the 
new school-room and 
witness the delight of the 
boat children at her dear 
mamma's singing ; for 
Bab always called Mrs. 
Ellis mamma now, and no 
one seeing them together 
would ever imagine they 
could be anything else. 

Bab was now so oc- 
cupied in looking up into 
her dear friend's gentle, 
loving face, and forward 
at the road along which 
they were going, that she 
never glanced aside at 
the field where she had 
last parted from Molly ; 
or else she must have 
seen the crouching figure 
of a girl, dirty, unkempt, 
and miserable-lookinii, 
close to the fence where 
Molly had found the broken 
rail. Bnt the ragged heap 
by the fence saw the chaise ap- 
proaching, the bright, sunny-hair- 
ed little girl between the lady and 
gentleman, and a pair of shining, 
eager eyes, looked out from the 
tangles of unkempt hair, and fixed 
their gaze upon the happy little 
face. 

" It cant be, it can't be her," 
muttered the girl, yet still keeping 
her eyes fixed upon the child ; and 
when the chaise passed she got up 
and went after it as fast as she 
[ was able. She did not try to run 



up with it, but managed to keep 
it in sight, until it stopped at the 
raiasion-room, and she uw the 
little girl carried in ; and then the 
gentleman drove away again, the 
ragged girl atill following, until 
the atreets of the town were reach- 
ed, and she aaw a poor man touch 
hia hat t(Tthe doctor as the chaise 
stopped. She followed the man 
then down a side street for a few 
yards, and touching him on the 
shoulder, she said, " Do you know 
that man in the little cart ?" She 
spoke in an eager, anxious 
whisper, and the man thought she 
must he ill, and said so. 
" Bnt that's the doctor, anre 



only nodded her head and hurried 
up the street and back b#the way 
she had come, until she' reached 
the miaaion-room. As she drew 
near she could hear them singing 
inside, and stopped to listen for a 
minute ; then went on again, un- 
til she reached one corner where 
a window waa open, and here ahe 
placed herself where she could 
see and hear all that was goinv on 
without herself being seen. How 
bright and eager her eyes grew as 
ahe peered cautiously into the 
room, until at length her whole 
face seemed to change with ita 
glad look of wondering aurprise 
and joy as she clasped her hands, 




MOLLY LOOKING IN AT THE DOCTOR'S WINDOW. 



enough, and a kinder man never 
lived than Dr. Ellis ; so yer need 
not be afraid of speaking to him," 
added the man, in a kind manner. 

" Where does he live ?" asked 
the girl eagerly. 

" Yer going to see him at his 
house, I s'pose? Well, yer go 
right straight through the town 
to Spring Road, and then yer'U 
see his name on a brass plate on 
the gate. ' Dr. Ellis, surgeon. ' Yer 
can't mistake it," said the man. 

The girl did not tell him that 
she could not read, and there- 
fore the doctor's brass plate would 
be of little service to her ; she 



murmuring — " Yea, it ia Bab ; it 
is my Bab !" and completely 
overcome by the joyful recogni- 
tion, Molly sank down upon the 
ground and burst into tears. 

" I don't care for nothing 
now," she murmured half aloud, 
looking up when the singing 
began again, and listening for 
BaVs sweet little voice ; they've 
took her and made a lady of her, 
and that's just all poor Bab was 
fit lor ; and ^ow I know she's 
safe, why, V'! go away and 
look arter somefin' for myself." 
But Molly did not go away. 
She seemed, however, to become 



suddenly aware of her deplorable 
appearance, and after watching 
Mrs. EUia and Bab drive away in 
the gig, ahe went down to the 
canal bank, and contrived to waah 
her face and smooth her hair, and 
ahake a little of the dust out )f 
her clothes ; ao that when the 
evening service began ahe alip- 
ped into the miaaion-room with 
the other boatera without exciting 
any attention. 

The doctor conducted the 
simple aervice, bnt of course ho 
knew nothinff of Molly, and took 
no notice of her ; bnt Molly was 
greatly disappointed that Mrs. 
Ellis and Bab did not come, 
she had promised her- 
self the pleasure of 
having one last \ona look 
at her little sister liefore 
she went away, and she 
could not pay much at- 
tention either to the 
prayers or singing for 
thinking of this. 

When the service was 
over she crept out, and 
the next morning started 
on her travels ; but the day- 
following she was back 
again, and before the end 
of the week Mr. Ellis 
heard from the lock- 
keeper that Molly waa 
about the neighbourhood 
again. 

" Then send her to me," 
said the gentleman. 

But, to the doctor's sur- 
prise, another week pass- 
ed, and he had heard no- 
thing of Molly. 

T n e weather had 
changed during the last 
few days, and was now so 
cold and wet that no one 
ventured out of doors, un- 
less they were compelled 
to go ; and when Dr. Ellis 
entered his gate about 
dusk one evening, and 
saw a crouching figure 
close to the drawing-room 
window, he thought some 
thief was taking advantage 
of the darkness and the 
weather to make himself 
acquainted with his do- 
mestic arrangement pre- 
paratory to breaking into 
the house. It was there- 
fore with no light hand 
that he seized upon the 
intruder, but saw to 
his astonishment, as he 
dragged her from the shelter of 
the shrubs to the gravel path, 
that it was only a poor half- 
drenched girl, instead of a man, as 
he had supposed. 

She was evidently astonished 
at being dragged from her hiding- 
place, and with an oath she 
wrenched herself from his hold, 
demanding who hs was, and 
raising her hand in a threatening 
attitude, as if to strike him. 
Seeing her wretched, woe-begone 
condition Mr. Ellis' heart was in- 
stantly filled with pity, and he 
said in a gentle tone, " What are 
you doing at my windows such a 

W 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



her deplorable '^ 
kfter WKtching 
drive away in 
down to the 
Ltrived to wash 
1 her hair, and 
le dust out >f 
hat when the 
9gan she Blip* 
ion-room with 
ithout exciting 

ondncted the 
t of course ho 
^olly, and took 
t>nt Molly was 
3d that Mrs. 
d not cume, 
>romi8ed her- 
pleasnre of 
last lonff look 
e sister liefore 
iway, and she 
pay much at- 
Iher to the 
singing for 
this. 

e service was 
:rept out, and 
lorning started 
ils ; but the day 
she was back 
before the end 
»ek Mr. Ellis 
n the lock- 
nt Molly was 
neighbourhood 

snd her to me," 
itleman. 
le doctor's sur- 
ter week pass- 
tiad heard no- 
>lly. 

eather had 
uring the last 
nd was now so 
et that no one 
It of doors, nn- 
ere compelled 
when Dr. £llis 
gate about 
evening, and 
ucbing figure 
drawing-room 
thought some 
;ing advantage 
cness and the 
make himself 
with his do- 
ngement pre- 
breaking into 
It was there- 
to light hand 
ed upon the 
lut saw to 
ment, as he 
he shelter of 
gravel path, 
poor half- 
id of a man, as 

ly astonished 
m her hiding- 
in oath she 
rom his hold, 
i» was, and 
a threatening 
strike him. 

, woe-begone 
heart was in- 

pity, and he 
" What are 

idows such a 



night as this? Do yon want 
me?" 

<• Are you Dr. Ellis ?" asked 
the girl, her hand suddenly drop- 
ping at her side. 

" Yes ; yon had better come in- 
side, and tell me what you want," 
said the doctor taking the key 
from his pocket, and leading the 
way to a side door. 

But the girl did not follow. " I 
don't want nothing," she said ; " I 
only wanted to have a look at the 
little gal inside there." And she 
was moving towards the ^ate, but 



" When did your mother die ? 
Was it about a year ago in this 
neighborhood ?" 

" It warn't far from this lock," 
said Molly. 

" Then I had seen little Barbara 
before. She cried to sit beside 
her mothev when I came." 

" YfS, that she did. She'd took 
n notion thnt Uod was going to 
send a messenger for her that 
night, and thought she'd lost her 
chance 'cos she went to sleep and 
didn't see him." 

" Poor little mite ; I am afraid 



her.' 

" Bab thought that Qod wanted 
her to do some work for Him 
fast," said Molly ; " and if it was 
worth His while to look after a 
poor boater gal like me, why I 
think He did.^' 

" Why should you speak of 
yourself like that?" asked the doC' 



the doctor's hand was laid upon 'jt was the messenger's fault, for I 
her shoulder | might have seen that night that 

" Do you know the little girl in ghe needed some one to befriend 
there ?' he asked, guessing at i—- ■< 
once that this was Molly come in 
search of her sister. " Have you 
seen her ?" 

The girl nodded. " Yes, I've 
seen her afore to-day," she said ; 
" but I'll never come no more if 
y er'll promise to take good care o' 
Bab always." 

" Then you are Molly, that our 
little Barbara is so often talking 
about. Yon must come in and 
see her now, and let her know 
you are safe." 

But Molly only tried to drag 
herself away. " No, no, I've 
seen her," she said ; " and 
I'll go away now, and never come 
back any more." 

" But why should you do that 
my girl ?" said the gentleman. 

" 'Cos Bab is happy, and I 
couldn't do nothing for her like 
you can, and so I don't want her 
to know about boaters and me any 
more." 

'' But Bab is very anxious to 
know about you, and now you are 
here you must come in and see 
her. I am glad you do not want 
to take her away from us." 

" Take her away — take Bab 
away when she's so happy, and 
yer so good to her?" Molly spoke 
almost with a sob, but she allow- 
ed herself to be led into the house, 
and followed the doctor into the 
little surgery. 

" Now, my girl, I should like 
you to tell mo whether any one 
else is likely to claim our little 



using God's precious gift to you 
as He would have you use it." 

" Why, what can I do i" said 
Molly. " Only tell me, yer'll see 
whether I won't do it, just for 
the chance o' seeing Bab some- 
times, so as she won't be ashamed 
on me." 

" Very well, then, I will see 
what can be done for you. And 
now yon shall come and see Bab ; 
or, stay, I will ask Mrs. Ellis to 
Hnd you some dry clothes first, and 
then I will bring Bab to yon '' 
And Mr. Ellis went and called 
his wife, and explained to her as 
shortly as he could who was in 
the surgery, and how she came 
there. 

" And she does not want to take 
the 'child Irom us !" exclaimed 
the lady, in a tone of relief. "Oh, 
I do hope Wo shall be able to help 
the poor girl herself, if only for 
that." 

" We must certainly do some- 
thing for her, for she has the mak- 






tor. " Boaters are as dear to God ! '»« "^ " ^of^ "J"^ »»*''« TT"""" "J 
as any one else. The Lord Jesus ! !>"• »" «P''« "^ »J" roughness and 
Christ died for you, as much as \ Jffno"nce. But now go and hnd 
He died for me or any other per- ^" «»"»« «l°t''«»- "Py ^«"' 2"*^ 



son. 

And now tell me about vour- 
self How can I help you ?" 

" Help me !" exclaimed Molly. 
" Why, I'm a boater ; I ain't like 
Bab." 

" You are not 
certainly ; but still 



take her to the kitchen fire, 
while I go and tell Bab who is 
here." 

A change of clothes was soon 

found for Molly, and a meal was 

spread for her in the kitchen ; but 

before she had sat down Bab came 

so helpless, in, and the sisters were left to 

if you have themselves for the next hour. 



le t your father s barge, and are ; gab's first words, after her tear- 
all alone in the world, you must U^, greeting, sounded a little 
need some help. I am sure, for ''^^^ful, for she said "Oh, 



you are a young girl 

" But I ain't fit for Bab, and I 
never was, and the only thing I 
can do is jist to go right away, and 
let Bab forget mo ; and then yer 
can make a lady on her, withiout 
any fear of the folks talking about 
her being a boater." 

" But God did not give Bab to 
you and to us for that. He sent 
her here among ns to help us." 
Yes, that's what she says, and 



Molly , why did you go away with- 
out me that day, and leave me in 
the field?" 

" 1 never meant to, Bab. Yer 
know I never meant to, don't 
yer ?" said Molly, imploringly. 

" I know yer didn't leave me 
there on purpose. But how was 
it, Molly ?" 

" Well, I'm most ashamed to 
tell yer, 'specially now ; but I tell 
yer this, Bab, I' ain't never touch' 



she has helped me. You can tell j ed it since, and I ain't a-going to, 
her I never touches the bottle i for it was all through mother's old 



now," said Molly. 
" You shall tell 



her yourself, 



Barbara. Does your father know ! Molly. You know she is 



where she is ?' 

" Not a bit of it, and he don't 
care ; he'll never trouble hisself 
to ask about her now he's got 
rid of her, for that was all he 
wanted." 

" And you have not told him 
where she is ?" 

" It ain't likely, for yer don't 
want ter have a lot o' boaters 
bothering yer ; and I've left 
father now, for he don't want me, 
'cos I grumbled and kicked up a 
row at the way he'd served me 
and Bab, locking me in the cabin, 
and going off leaving Bab in that 
field.*' 

" That is how she came to be 
left behind then ?" said the doc- 
tor. 

" Yes, father he was always 
looking out for the chance o' doing 
it. Mother told me that afore she 
died." 



your 
your 



sister, and will always be 
sister." 

For a moment there was a gleam 
of joyful triumph shining in 
Molly's eyes, but the next moment 
they filled with tears, and she 
said, almost angrily, " Yer know 
I ain't fit to be Bab's sister ; I 
can only go away and not let her 
see me no more !" 

"My girl, that is not what God 
intended when He gave you such 
a sweet little sister. Now listen 
to me. You are not fit to be Bab's 
sister just now, perhaps, and I 
should scarcely like you to come 
and sec her often as you are." 

" Didn't I know it-didn't I tell 
you so ?" 

" Hear what I have to say, my 

firl. You know this yourself, but 
believe — I am sure — that by 
God's help yon can make yourself 
fit, and in this way yon will be 



bottle yer got left behind.' 

" Tell me about it," said Bab, 
'* didn't the boat stop all day ?" 
" Why, it didn't stop an hour. 
Jack fold me. I went back, arter 
putting you in the field, and had a 
bigger sip than usual,wotmade me 
sleepy, I s'pose, for I went to 
sleep, and when I woke the cabin 
door was shut and locked, and we 
was going as fast as we could go. 
I hammered and screamed, but it 
worn't no good, they wouldn't let 
me out till night, and then we 
was miles away from here. But I 
started and walked back to look 
for yer next day, but nobody 
hadn't seen yer in the field or seen 
yer took out, and at last I went 
back and found the boat agin ; 
but father wotddn't let me go 
aboard then, so I come off agin 
and helped one and another with 
the boats when I could and 
begged when I couldn't till I 
got here agin, and seed yer go to 
that boaters' school one Monday, 



and I've seed yer a gowl many 
timi'B since." 

" And what are you going to 
do now ?" asked Bab " Yer a 
fust-rate boater, Molly." 

" Yes, but that ain't no good 
now, and so I'm going to do 
something that I can come and sue 
yon sometimes." 

Bab clapped her hands at this 
announcement. " I am so glad." 
she said, " 'cos I didn't want to go 
back to the boat, Molly." 

" I should think not," said 
Molly. " Why, Bab, I never 
thought that God could do such 
things for boaters as He's done 
for me and you, for yer see the 
doctor's a-going to help me be 
something decent now." 

Of course Bab, and Molly too, 
had unlimited trust in the doctor's 
pov er to do " something" for 
Molly, but the gentleman him- 
self was puzzled to know how to 
help this second water wait he 
had undertaken to provide for, 
and many anxious consnltutions 
were held before anything suit- 
able could be decided upon. 

At last it was arranged that 
Molly should go to the institution 
for training servants, that she 
might learn to do housework and 
cooking, and to fit herself to take 
a respectable situation by-and-by. 
Mrs. Ellis told her before she went 
that she would probably find the 
confinement to indoor work rather 
trying at first, and also the con- 
forming to rules and regulations 
somewhat irksome ; but Molly 
declared she was willing to do or 
bear anything for the sake of see- 
ing Bab ; and she was as good as 
her word. Mr. Ellis received an 
excellent report of her conduct 
after she had been there a few 
months, the matron saying she 
was willing to learn, truthful, 
and obliging, and no one but her- 
self knew what a hard battle she 
had to fight to keep the rules of 
the house, and always do as she 
was told. But the battle was 
fought and the victory won, i'or 
Molly could believe now that God 
cared for her, poor as she was, and 
she constantly sought grace and 
help from Him to do her duty. 

The greatest joys of her life 
were in the visits she paid to little 
Bab. To go and see her sister 
neatly dressed wasa pleasure look- 
ed forward to by Molly through 
all the working days of service ; 
and Mr. and Mrs. Ellis had the 
satisfaction of seeing their most 
sanguine hopes fulfilled in the 
after life of these water waifs. 

THE END. 



I Expect to pass through this 
world but once, any good thing 
therefore that I can do, or any 
kindness that I can show to a 
human being, or any word that I 
can speak for the good of others 
— let me do it now. Let me not 
neglect it, for I shall not pass this 
way again. — R. H. McDonald. 

Ct 



i 



V- 



40 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



«• 



" NOBLESai? OULIUE." 



I'ABBAOK 
ROBIN 



IN 



TIIR MKK 
DKVEUKUX. 



or 



(ChatlmlHM ) 
" Tli oniT noblt to !«• uoo'^-' —Tfiinumn," 

"NoblpMcObligo!" 

That was yuuiiir Robin Dot- 
orenx'a favourite motlo, and it was 
often on his lips, beinir, as he 
thou}(ht, specially suited to him- 
self. 

Robin was very proud of his 
birth and descent ir'om a ^oodold 
family, but his little sister Lily 
(who was two years younger) 
sometimes thou(fhtit 
a doubtful benefit to 
be born a llovcreux, 
seeing that Iho name 
seemed to entail so 
much upon its 
owners. 

Poor Colonel l)ev- 
ereux could leave his 
children no inheri- 
tance except an in- 
convenient stock of 
lamily pride, and at 
his death they might 
have fared badly but 
for the kindness of 
their father's brother- 
in-law. Mr. Thorpe, 
a wealthy corn-factor, 
who generously took 
in the poor orphans 
and brought them up 
with his own chil- 
dren. This nrrang"- 
ment was not entirely 
t(i Robin's ta«te, al- 
I houi;h his new home 
was as ha|.py a one 
HH liis uncle and 
aunt's loving care, 
and the merry com- 
panionship of a host 
ol young cousins, 
rould make it. He 
chiilVd and fretted at 
what h« called his 
humdrum life in 
Laiiestniry. How 
lould his uncle bear 
i!'? What a prospect 
ior himself and his 
eldest cousin Charles! 
Lessons from morn- 
ing till night now ; 
and when that was 
.loiio with, drui;dery 
oi It svorso kind iu his 
nil cl u's connting 
house ! 

" Stick to your 
books, Robin," Mr. 
Thtirpe would say 
clieer>ily, " and some day we 
sUhII find a seat in the coiintiiig- 
house. for you. I don't mean to 
iiittke any difference between you 
1111(1 my own boys, and who knows 
but that Hume day it may be 
Thorpe and Dovoroux over the 
ofTice-door ?' 

"Thorpe, and Uevereux, corn- 
lactors'" liobiii hated the 
thought. 

Charles Thorpe, however, who 
took things in a matter-of-fact 
\'. :iy, wished for nothing better 
that to repeat his father's busy, 



uprigiit life, and could not under- 
stand his cousin's dreams for the 
future. But then hu was a Thorpe 
and knew no better, thouitht 
Robin disdainfully, and he con- 
fided to Lily his ambitious plans 
of doing some grand work in the 
world worthy of the name of Dov- 
ereux. 

His views as to the best way of 
attaining this object varied from ' and 
day to day, somewhat confusing 
poor Lily. Now he was to be a 
soldier, like his father, and carve 
his way to fortune ; now he would 
bo a second Warren Hastings, and 
buy back the alienated familv 



ready manner, betrayed his yeo- 
man origin; but Itobin, tall, lithe, 
and active, with Hashing eyes, was 
a Uevereux all over. The cousins, 
who were now both about fo:tr- 
teeii, went every day to a neiarh 




estates ; now ho was to go into 
Parliament and become nothing 
less than prime minister. ''Noblesse 
oblige ! you know, Lily," he al- 
ways euaedup. 

But meantime, in all their 
studies, Charles Thorpe wasslovv- 
ly but surely getting ahead of his 
more brilliant cousin, whose quick I by common rules, 
wits could not make up for his S^i it seemed, for shortly after- 
idleness and inattention. The ] wards Robin was found guilty ot 
two boys were unlike as in ap- such a flagrant act of disobedience 
pearance as in disposition. ' that his tutor not only gave him a 
Charles, in his lumbering figure, severe imposition, but also made a 
plain though kindly face and un- formal complaint to his uncle. 



Mr. Thorpe, justly angry, con- 
demned Robin lo stay in his own 
room except during suhool-hours, 
and bade him consider hiinselfin 
disgrace until further notiue. 
, ^ Tj - This imprisonment was a great 

boring village about two miles hardship to the active boy, but I 
distant, where they read with the ' 'on't think he felt it half so much 
Vicar's son, who acted as their 'as Lily, who wandered about the 
tittor. But ]{obin's love of play passage outside his door and was 
high spirits were always thoroughly miserable. At first 
lirinflring him into some scrape ; Robin worked hard at his task, 
.tnd iilthough the good-natured but then he grew tired and rest- 
Charles did his best to shield him, less, and began to cast about in his 
nothing eould keep his cousin ! mind for some way out of his dis- 
from frequent disgrace. In vain i grace. On the third day an idea 
his aunt looked grave, and Lily joccured to him, which seemed so 

very tempting that 
ho carried it out the 
next morning. 

He rose early and 
packed his school- 
satchel with a few 
necessaries in the 
way of wearing- 
apparel, adding a 
lunch ofbread, which 
he spared from his 
breakfast. He count- 
ed up his little stock 
of money — eighteen 
pence exactly — and 
stored it safely in his 
pocket. Then he 
got pen and paper, 
and, after the fashion 
of intending run- 
aways, he wrote a 
few lines : — 

'Dearest Lilt. 
" I can't aland thii 
any longer, and mean to fio 
out iutu the world and 
make uijr fortune like a 
gentleman and a Uevereux. 
Keep your apirite untilysu 
aeo uie again. 

" Your loving Uobin. ' 

By way of best 
attracting notice, he 
pinned this letter 
with an old knife on 
to his dressing-table. 
As he did so his heart 
sank. No thought of 
the ingratitude with 
which ho Was repay- 
ing his uncle and 
aunt's kindness dis- 
turbed him. His 
tenderness was all 
for Lily. 'What 
would she do with- 
out him ? How 
could ho bear to 
leave her ? Well, it 
was only for a little 
while ; all should be 
made up to Lily when 
he had made his for- 
gently urged that hard work and j tune Then he would come in his 
steadiness now might help him to|coach-and-lour,withthe Devereux 
become a great man sooner than | arms upon the panels, and bear 
anything else. jLily away to live with him at Dev- 

"Stufl", Lily!" he answered, ereux Court. So jolly and hap- 
" It's all very well for a fellow ^py they two would be together ; 
like Charles, who has no ambition, I and Lily should do just as she 
but a Devereux can't be bound | liked, and always wear velvet and 

satin— never less than satin. 



ROBIN E8CAPINO FROM THE VAN. 



. . But as he dreamed, the 
hall-clock, striking eight, awoke 
him to the fact that his fortune 
was still unmade, and that it was 
time to start for school. 
The key of his door was turned S 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER" 



41 



ly niiijrjr, con- 
Hliiy ill hii own 
ly Nchool-houra, 
liUvr hitnaallin 
htir notice, 
tint was a vreat 
ilivo hoy, but I 
it hnlfno much 
lured tibout the 
a door and waa 
ib!e. At tirat 
rd at hiH task, 
tired and reat- 
cust about in hia 
r out of hia dia- 
rd day an idea 
lich 8t>emed ao 
tiMnpting that 
rrifd it out the 



in the loct from the outside : he 
waa at liberty for a few houra.and 
Oharlea waa calling from the hall 
below,— 

" Make haate, Robin ! we ahnll 
be late!" 

" No. Oo on, old fellow ! I'll 
catch you up." 

Charlea aet out in hia methodical 
way. Robin gave him atart 
aaincient to turn the corner half- 
way down the lane, and then, 
catching up hia aatchel, prepared 
to follow. At the top uf the ataira 
atood Lilv, waiting as usual to bid 
him good-bye. Robin threw an 
extra amount of fervor into hia 
embrace that morning, giving hia 
siater, in addition, an apparently 
needJeas oantion to take care of 
heraelf. 

Then he ran down the garden ; 
but instead of following his cousin 
along the winding lane to Kyne- 
ton, turned short oiT, leaped a stile 
upon the right, harried acroas an 
intervening field into another lane 
beyond, and scarcely drew breath 
until he had put full two miles 
between himself and Lancsbury. 
Then he went more soberly, bnt 
still at a brisk pace, till he heard 
the wheels of some conveyance 
coming along the road behind 
him. Prompted by hia guilty 
conscience, he acrambled up the 
bank, and congratulated himaelf 
upon hia precaution, when hidden, 
behind the hedge at the top, he 
saw his uncles dog-cart Dowl 
swiftRr past below. Mr. Thorpe 
himself was driving, and talking 
to his companion in his usual loud 
voice about harvest prospects. 

The lane, so near home, was 
clearly unsafe. After this ex- 
perience, Robin struck into the 
Relds again, and found his way 
across country to a hamlnt eight 
miles from Lanesbury, where he 
rested and made a spare midday 
meal off his lunch of bread and a 
draught of imik procured at a 
neighboring farm. He had no 
particular plan, except to get as 
far as possible from Lanesbury be- 
fore beginning the process of mak- 
ing his fortune. So, as the first 
stage in his journey, he turned his 
steps toward Horton, a large 
town about thirty miles away. A 
third only of the distance he walk- 
ed that day, and when evening 
came he spent a few of his pence 
in a night's lodging at a roadside 
cottage. 

The next afternoon he had al- 
ready walked some miles, and was 
beginning to feel weary, when he 
waa overtaken by the van of an it- 
inerant basket-mender, which was 
apparently bound in the same 
direction aa hiiyself. Just as it 
reached him something went 
wrong with the rotten harness, 
and Robin stepped forward to 
help in iratting it right. In 
return, the owner of the van offer- 
ed him a lift, which Robin gladly 
accepted, and climbed up to the 
vacant outside seat The basket- 
maker's wife with several small 
children occupied the vacant 
space inside the cart. 



The pace of the old horse was 
not fast, but Robin liked the rust, 
andso easily got over the few more 
miles between him and the next 
village. Here the van was left 
in charge of the tramp's wifn, 
while hu himself tried to dispose 
of some of the many baskets and 
other rough wickur articles dang- 
ling ot the aidea of the cart. Robin, 
too, got down to atretoh hia legs, 
and walked apart, not anxious to 
betray hia connexion with the 
other travellers. 

As he loitored along waiting 
while the basket-makers stopped 
to hawk his wares at every open 
door. Robin came upon a bill- 
sticker pasting some notice upon 
a black wall. 

He had the curiosity to stop 
and read one printed in large 
capitals—" Twenty Pounds Re- 
ward!" 

It gave an accurate description 
of his own person and appearance, 
adding that whoever would give 
information to Mr, Thorpe, of 
Lanesbury, which would lead to 
the safe recovery of his missing 
nephew, should receive the above 
mentioned sum. Robin passed 
on hastily, determined to wait at 
a safe distance a-h«ad for the slow 
conveyance which formed his 
present home. He could almost 
have fancied that curious glances 
were cast at him by one or two 
passers-by ; but he stepped on, 
bold and defiant, till he reached 
the outskirts of the village. 

A price upon his head ! 

Robin thought there was some- 
thing delightfully romantic and 
outlaw-like in the idea. Never- 
theless, he was not sorry when he 
found himself once more in the 
van, safe from observation beneath 
the shelter of the dangling 
baskets. 

Their owner netnrned in high 
good-humor, after an unuauuly 
Buccessfnl sale, and told Robin, 
who made himself useful in Lslp- 
ing to picket the horse, that 
he was welcome to his supper 
and night's lodging if he chose 
to remain with them .. 3 quart- 
ers were not exac* " Robin's 
taste, but for lack oi better he 
accepted the offer, and settled 
himself as best he could at the 
back of the van, where two or 
three children were already sleep- 
ing. 

Robin was tired, but the novelty 
and excitement of his position, to 
say nothing of its discomforts, 
quite chased sleep from his eyes. 
He lay awake an hour or more, 
listening to the murmur of talk 
between the basket-maker and his 
wife on the farther side of the 
partition dividing the van, but at 
last fell into a sort of doze, from 
which he was roused by the rust- 
ling of paper and the two voices 
growing eager. 

" Twenty pounds reward, I tell 
you !" said the man's rough tones. 
That's better than basket-selling. 
It's him, sure enough. " Gray 
suit, dark eyes, tall ana slim." I 
thought all along as how he had a 



high-aiiil-mii^hty look about him." 

" Runaway, i 'suoai'," auid the 
woman ; " though it's atranvu 
that gfutk'folk born should like 
our life bettor than their'n." 

" Well, Uotay, first thing in the 
morning we'll just turn tail, and 
take him home again. It will be 
n bit of charity, and worth our 
while besides." 

He chuckled so loudly that the 
woman hushed him with a 
reminder of the sleeping children; 
and after this the voices grew 
more subdued, ceased and finally 
loud snores told that both speakers 
slept. 

But lon^ ere this Robin had 
made up his mind. Liberty was 
too sweet to lose again so soon. 
Very quietly he drew on his boot* 
and moving with the utmost care, 
that he might not disturb the 
sleepers, passed quietly through 
the van door, slipped down the 
steps, and vanished in the dark- 
ness. 

(7b be coHtinued.) 

HOW OUN BARBELS ABE 
MADE. 

The beantiftil waved lines and 
curious flower-like figures that 
appear on the surface oi gun 
barrels are really the lines of 
welding, showing that two dif- 
ferent metals — iron and steel — are 
intimatelv blended in making the 
finest and strongest barrels. The 
process of thus welding and blend- 
ing steel and iron is a very 
interesting one. Flat bars or 
ribbons of steel and iron are alter- 
nately arranged together and 
then twisted into a cable. Several 
of these cables are then welded 
together, and shaped into a long, 
flat bar, which is next Bpirally 
coiled around a hollow cylinder, 
called a mandrel; after which the 
edges of these spiral bars are 
heated and firmly welded. The 
spiral coil is now put upon what 
is called a welding mandrel, is 
again heated and carefully 
hammered into the shape of a gnn 
barrel. Next comes the cold 
hammering, by which the pores 
of the metal are securely closed. 
The last, or finishing operation, is 
to turn the barrel on a latho to 
exactly its proper shape and size. 
By all the twistings, weldings and 
hammerings the metals are so 
blended that the mass has some- 
what the consistency and tough- 
ness of woven steel and iron. A 
barrel thus made is very hard to 
burst. But the finishing ot the 
inside of the barrel is an operation 
requiring very great care and 
skill What is called a cylinder- 
bored barrel is where the bore or 
hole through the barrel is made 
uniform size from end to end. 
A choke-bore is one that is a little 
smaller at the muzzle end than it 
is at the breech end. • There are 
various ways of "choking" gun 
barrels, but the object of all 
methods is to make the gun throw 
its shot close together with even 



1111(1 regular distribuliuu and with 
great i'orcii. —Manii/'aduref and 
Builder. 

TWO WAYS OF LOOKING 
AT IT. 

An ox, feeding, aa is the manner 
of oxen, upon gross, and being 
therefore of a placid nature, was 
much shocked at the conduct of a 
serpent of its acquaintance, when 
it saw the serpent first staru at 
it with its baleful eyes, and then 
proceed to swallow a poor frog. 

" How could you be so cruel 'i" 
said the mild-eyed ox. 

" My dear friend, " replied the 
subtle serpent, " if the frog had 
hopped one hop away from me, or 
made a single croak, I would not 
have eaten it for the world; but, 
as you saw, it had not the slight- 
est objection, and there is no injury 
where there is consent." 

The ox, though a thoughtful, is 
not a Bwii'tly thinking, animal. It 
had browsed for some time, and 
the serpent had slipped away for 
its noontide sleep of digestion, be- 
fore the ox bethought itself oi the 
reply that it might have given to 
the serpent — 

" Yes, fear is often mistaken, or 
pretended to be mistaken, for con- 
sent." 

A horse who had heard the 
conversation between the serpent 
and the ox made a much shrewder 
remark; but with the shrewdness 
that is gained from suflering, he 
made it in soliloquy, as is the cus- 
tom with that patient creature, the 
horse — 

"That is the way with my 
master; because I am silent he 
thinks, or pretends to think, like 
that hypocrite of a serpent, that I 
do not suffer when he is cruel to 
me."—Breria. 



ADVANTAaK OF LEARNING A 

Trade. — The advice of Benjamin 
Franklin, to give every child a 
trade by which he can earn a 
living, if necessary, comes of a 
human experience older than his. 
In some countries this has been 
the law ; in others a common 
custom. St. Paul, though educated 
in the law at the feet of Qamaliel, 
also acquired the important 
Oriental handicraft of a tentmaker, 
by which he was able to earn his 
living while prosecuting his 
mission. It is a good and wise 
thing to do. You may be able to 
leave your children fortunes ; bnt 
"riches take to themselves wings." 
You may give them finished 
educations, and they may be ^ft- 
ed with extraordinary genius; 
but they may be placed in 
situations where no education and 
no talent may be so available as 
some humble, honest trade, by 
which they can set their Ining 
and be useful to oUiers. — Ex. 



Purity, sincerity, obedience 
and self-surrender, are the marbLa 
steps that lead to the spiritual 
temple. 



' ' 11 v/ 






REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NOUTIIKKN MESSENGER." 



■•H©|j|.»ff 



NOBLRSSE OBLIOE" 

A PAMHAHK IN THE I.IKK OP 

KOBIN DKVEKKUX. 

{Vkall0rku ) 

" Tl> only nobi* to Im %t3oA:' - Tii*hv*^»." 

Chapter II. 

It ii not difiicalt to ima^ne tho 
tensation which Robin'i tlight 
cansed at Laneabnry. Poor Lily 
waa heartbroken at his desertion, 
and, aa the days went on and 
brought no tidings of him, pined 
so much that her kind atint was 
quite concerned. Charles, too. 



with hare fan> nn<l poor lod^in^ ; 
from which it will bostion hn huti 
not as yi't tnadw much progress 
on his rood to tortune, 

Then there caino a time wlien 
work, oven of the humbittst kind, 
waa not always plentiful. Hut 
the dull days of Novombor found 



ly vvi 
1(1 liar 



hild hud ilark i'Vi'n, and long lair 
curls strnyi'd Iroiu under her 
pretty white but. Hoinuthing in 
the little miiidin'M kind glunne of 
iiiloreNt ruiaindod Kobiii of Lily 
and he Bi|{hed. 

When they returmd, there stood 



him hopeful still. Rxpectaiit of Robin wailing nt tho hothouse 
better things, ho was now work- door, with a haudlul of rhrysan 



Dg for a time with a florist and 
market-gardener named Slrupp. 
Robin was active and industrious. 
He and his worthy master got on 
well together for two or three 
weeks, which were prosperous 

tliough he said little, missed hui i days with Robin At tho end of 

constant companion. I that time Mr. Strupp's son finished 

Mr. Thorpe had 

langhed at first, pro* 

phesying that the run- 
away would be back in 

a day or two, ashamed 

and crestfallen, and he 

consented reluctantly to 

his wife's wish of taking 

steps for his recovery. 

But when the offered 

reward brought no 

result, and the truant 

did not return, he grew 

angry, declaring that 

Robin was an ungrate- 
ful rascal, whose name 

he never wished to hear 

again. 

By degrees the chil- 
dren forgot their merry 

cousin, and ceased to 

miss him in their 

games : only Lily could 

not forget. The pi ay- 
hours, which Robin had 

made so pleasant, were 

wearisome to her now. 

She did not speak much 

of him, but her heart 

was wearying for her 

brother, and all 

Charles's clumsy, 

though well-meant, 

etforts to till his place 

could not console her. 

Night and morning she 

would steal out into the 

porch, and look round 

wistfully, half hoping to 

see Robin come whist- 
ling across the meadows, 

as he used to do. Alas ! 

she was always dis- 
appointed. 
The hay was carried 

and stacked ; the corn 

sprang, and ripened, and 

fell beneath the reaper's 

sickle ; but Robin never 

came. And Lily grew _ ' . • i >. 

paler and paler, droop- " ■ 

ing day by day with the sickneu some work he had undertaken at 



themums arranged with dark 
evergreen loaves. These he olfer- 
ed to tho little girl, raising his cap 
respectlnlly. The child look 
pleased, and the lady thanked I 
graciously. 

'' A good-looking lad, uud well- 
mannered," she said to herself. 




THE LAIIDLASY DEUAMDINO HEB B£NT, 



of hope deferred, till she seemed 
more than ever like her lowly 
namesake, the lily ot the valley. 
Meantime Robin, the object of 
so much care, tared passably well 
through the pleasant summer 
weeks, enjoying the fri^e out-door 
life, and feelmK like some merry 
outlaw of the olden time. In hay 
and harvest season the farmers 
were often short of hands, and 
Robin managed in a pleasant way 
«|a to earn enough to keep himself, 
i I though he must needs live hardly. 



a distance, and returned to help 
his father , and then Robin's 
services were no longer needed. 
On the last aay of his work with 
the old gardener, it happened that 
a lady with a little girl came to 
speak to Robin's master about 
some shrubs which she wished 
transplanted, and before leaving 
he walked through the hothouses, 
as was usual, with his customers. 
The little daughter, warmly wrap- 
ped in cosy fur, followed behind, 
and passed close to Robin as he 



Then, as she lingered admiring 
this and that in the ordinary 
garden,a thought seemed to strike 
her. She turned, and spoke a few 
words to Mr. Strupp in a low 
voice. 

Robin could not catch wnatshe 
said, but he heard the answer in 
the old gardener's louder tones : 

" Yes, my lady. He's a good 
lad. He leaves me to-night ; and 
no doubt but he'd be thankful for 
such a chance." 

The ladies had almost reached the 
garden-gate ; but at this the elder 



turned back, and called Robin 
who came up wondering 

" What is your name, my 
boyy 
" Robin," he answered simply 
" Well then, Robin, I hear that 
youi work with Mr strupp is 
iinishcd, and perhaps you may 
like a chance of bettering your- 
self t I am pleased with yonr 
manner .tnd appearance.' (Robin 
wondered what was coming. 
Would she offer to adopt him, as 
"^ple did in books, and take him 
: to a life of luxury again V) 
.dy present page isleavinv m»," 
the lady went on. " I will take 
you in his place, and with a little 
traininv you will do 
well. Your work would 
be easy — to run errands 
and wait on my daugh- 
ter, to wash my poodles 
and take them out for 
exercise. How should 
you like to live with me, 
and wear a suit of livery 
like that V" with a wave 
of the hand towards the 
boy in buttons who 
stood at her carriage- 
door. 

Poor Robin ! What 
a climax alter his am- 
bitions hopes ! All the 
blood of tho Devereux 
welled up, and died his 
face crimson, and he 
stood there, speechless 
with shame. Buttons ! 
A Devereux in bottons I 
" Of course it would 
be a rise in life for you ; 
but I hear you are a 
good boT, and would 
deserve it," continued 
the visitor, kindly. 

But Robin could 
bear no more. 

" Thanks, my lady ; 
it wouldn't suit mo," he 
managed to stammer 
out. And rushing away 
to the farthest corner of 
the garden, he gave way 
to his long pent-up feel- 
ings, and watered the 
asparagus beds with 
Hoods of tears. 

Robin's misery ttad 
reached its crowning- 
point. Somehow this 
last experience damped 
his ardour more than 
all which had gone be- 
fore. Weary and dis- 
pirited, he went about 
seeking work in vain. 
The remnants of his 
earnings dwindled away. 



poor ,- 

His clothes had become ragged 

and threadbare : yet he could not 

replace them, for tJiie lew shillings 

he now and then earned by a 

chance job scarcely sufficed to 

buy him food and shelter. Often 

in these days Robin knew what it 

was to feel both cold and hungry, 

and at such times so^nething 

familiar would come into his head 

about a home where was " bread 

enough and to spare ; " and, like 

another poor prodigal long ago, 

he thought regretfully of his lost 



II \l 



m-*^ 



$ 



n 



•H® 



salleU U<ibin 

iiamt>, my 

irered ■imply 
II, I hoar that 
!r Htrupp in 
ip» vou may 
tteriiiif your- 
J with yoar 
ICO.'' (liobiii 
I'M cominif. 
idopt him, aa 
aud take him 
nry again V) 
ileaviiiKm»," 
' I will take 
1 with a littli^ 
'oa will do 
r work would 
irnn errand* 
n my daueh- 
li my poodlea 
hem cat for 
Howahould 
live with mc, 
•uit of livery 
' with a wave 
I towards the 
inttona who 
ler carriage- 

>bin ! What 

niU'r hia am- 

>e8 ! All the 

he Devereux 

and died hia 

Bon, and he 

e, apeechlcER 

e. Buttons! 

,z in bottons ! 

irae it would 

. life for you ; 

ir you are a 

and would 

continued 

kindly. 

obin could 

ire. 

ray lady ; 
suit mo," he 
tu stammer 
nshingaway 
est corner of 
he gave way 
pent-up feel- 
watered the 
beds with 
Etrs. 

misery had 

crowning- 

mehow this 

nee damped 

more than 

ad gone be- 

ry and dis- 

went about 

ik in vain. 

nts of hia 

died away. 

ome ragged 

he could not 

cw shillings 

arned by a 

sufficed to 

slter. Ofton 

new what it 

and hungry, 

BO.nothing 

nio his head 

was " bread 

" and,liko 

1 lona; ago, 

y of his lost 



^ 



l\ 



^Ht 



V 

*' IP' hleMingt Yet he could not bring 
bimtelf to go back and humbly 
own hia failure. Ho could never 
bear to meet bit uncle's ■oora, his 
auut's reproaches. 

80 Robin went out again into 
the streets, uid made one more 
attempt to find work, no mutter 
how bumble He otTered himself 
i\» errand-boy and baker's lad ; he 
I'ven looked enviously at a cross- 
ing-sweeper 

But boys seemed plentiful and 
labor scarce. There was no place 
in all the bustling town for Robin. 

He went bsck to his wretched 
lodging in a back-lane ; bufatthe 
door liis landla<ly waited to 
demand his week'* rent 
before admitting him. She 
had th« chance of a lodger 
willing to pay sixpence a- 
week more than Robin. 
Under these oircumslancoa 
iiU his petitions for delay 
were of no use. He must 
pay or go. So he went. 

Whither? 

Ah! that was the ques- 
tion. He was sick of the 
hard, cruel town, and the 
indifferent faces all turned 
coldly upon him. He felt 
in his pockets, and finding 
a few pence there, ha 
renolved with a sudden 
impulse to apend them on 
a third-class ticket to Lauei- 
bury Junction. 

(7b be conlintied.) 



UKI'RINTKI) STOUIKS. KHOM THE 

Old record*! say that thimbles 
were first worn on the thumbs ; 
bnt we can scarcely conceive how 
thoy could bo of inu' li use tht<re. 
Formerly they were made of briiss 
and iron only, but of late years 
steel, silver, gold, horn, ivory, and 
oven pearl and glass have all been 
used for making thimbles. I saw 
some very buautilul ones in China 
that were eiquisitely carvod of 
pearl and bound with gold and 
the end also uf gold. Theiio pearl 
thimbles are quite as costly and 
far prettier than those made 
entirely of gold. A thim- 
ble owned by the queen 
I consort of 8iaa M shaped uke a 



NOWIHKRN MK.S«KN(JKR. 

thinibl>!«, composed of lava from 
Mount Veivuvius, aro occasionally 
sold, bnt rather as curiosities than 
for real Htllily, bi mg, froiu the 
extrvmo bnttlouess of the lava. 



CHIP 



43 



thimble Is then trimmed, polished 
nnd indented arouixl iln .mtor 
surface with tiny holes It is 
next converted into steel by a 
process called cementation, tncn 



very easily broken. I hear also | ti>mnered, sconred and brought to 
of thimbles made of asphaltum a blue color. After til this is 
from the Dead 8oa, and of one | completed, a thin sheet of gold is 
composed of a fragment of the old introduced into the interior and 
elm tree at Cambridge, Mass., fastened to the steel by a mandrel, 
under which OeneralWanhington while gold leaf is attached Hrmly 
stood when taking couund of the by pressure to the outside, the 

edges being seamed in a small 
groove made to receive them. 
This completes the thimble that 
will last for years. The steel 
used in its construction will 
scarcely wear out in a long life- 
time, and the gold, ifworn 
away, is easily replaced.— 
Dorcai Magatint, 



United States Army in July, 1776, 
but I do not suppose that any of 
these were ever intended to be 
used in sowing. In the ordinary 
manufacturo of gold and silver 
thimbles thin plalue of the metal 



AND 



A NOBLE DOO 
CANARY. 

A lady had a pet canary, 
while her brother was 
the owner of a retriever 
that was also much petted. 
( )ne day the canary escaped 
from the house, and was 
seen flying about the 
grounds for a few days, and 
when it perched it waa 
generally on high elm- 
trees. At last it vanished 
from view, and this dear 
little pet was mourned for 
lis lost or dead. But alter 
the interval of another day 
or so the retriever came in 
with the canary in hia 
montlb carrying it most 
delicately, and went up to 
the owner ot the bird, 
delivering it into her hands 
without even the feathers 
bein^ injured. Surely 
iiothmg cop.Id illustrate 
more beautifully faithful 
love and gentleness in a dog than 
this. 




WEALTH IN THE SEA. 

Seldom or never has the 
enormous importance of 
the harvest of the s<ia been 
more forcibly represented 
than it was the other day 
by Prof. Huxley, in the 
address which he delu'ered 
at the International Fish- 
eries Exhibition. An acre 
of good fishing ground, he 
pointed out, will yield 
more food in a week than 
an acre of ihe best land will 
in a year. Still more vivid 
was his picture of the 
moving " mountain of 
cod," 120 to 130 feet in 
height, which for two 
months in every year 
moves westward and south- 
ward, past the Norwegian 
coast. Every square mile 
of this colossal column of 
fish contains 120 millions 
of fish, consuming every 
week, when on short 
rations, no fewer than 840 
millions of herrings. The 
whole catch of the Nor- 
wegian fisheries nerer ex- 
ceeds in a year more than 
half a square mile of this 
" cod mountain," and one 
week's supply of the her- 
rings needed to keep that 
area of cod from starving. 
London might be victualled 
with herrings for a year 
on a day's consumption of 
the countless shoals of un- 
caught cod. 



TBIE BETRIGVER 



THE THIMBLE. 

The thimble is a Dutch in- 
vention that was first brought to 
England in 1695 by one John 
Lofting, who began ita manufac- 
ture at Islington near London, 
gaining thereby both honor and 
profit Ita name waa derived 
from the worda thumb and bell, 
^ being for a long time called 
\ \ thamblo, and only lately thimble. 

AA,aA 



lotus bnd, this being the royal 
flower of that country, and almost 
everything about the court bear- 
ing, in a greater or less degree, 
some impress of the lotus. This 
thimble is of gold, thickly studded 
with diamonds tbat are so arrang- 
ed as to form the lady's name and 
the date of her marriage. It was 
a bridal gift from the king, who, 
having seen the English and 
American ladies at his court using 
thimbles, took this method of 
introducing them among his own 
people. In Naples very pretty 



SAVING THE CANARY. 

The Birbs, large and 
small, held a meeting when 
are introduced into the die and; the autumn winds began to 
then punched into shape. But in bluster ; and this is the way the 
Paris the French have a way of meeting ended : 



their own, quite different from 
ours, for nii\king gold thimbles 
that are said to be much more 
durable than those made in the 
usual way. Pieces of very thin 
sheet-iron are cut into disks of 
about two inches in diameter. 
These, after being heated to red- 
ness, are struck by means of a 
punch into a succession of holes 
of a gradually increasing depth, 
to give the proper shape. The 



The owl this question put,— "Say * Ay' 
Thow) who intend away to fly ;'* 
All but the sparrows votfl to ffo, 
TheM chirp a most decided "No." 

" *ris carried."8aid the owl, "Adieu." 
The birds cry, " Now for skieaof blue." 
"Go," chirped the sparrows, "why thia fuss? 
Our borne is good eaousch for ua," 



If You would create some- 
thing, you must be something. — 
Ooethe. 



-m 



■^ 



T 44 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



4 



"N0BLES8B OBLIGE." 

A PA8SAOB IN THK LIFE OV 
ROBIN UEVKBBTJX. 

" Tlf OBlj nobU lo b« nod."— r«HnvioN," 
OhaPTIB II.— CoM(tN»«ef. 

No one was at all likely to 
reoogniae Mr. Thorpe's nephew in 
the ragged, way-worn traveller 
umerged in the winter's doak of 
that same afternoon fVom the 
crowded janction, which. was the 
nearest station to Lauesbnr^. 

There la^ fire miles still be- 
tween Robin and home, if home 
ho dared call it Tired as he was 
he began mechani- 
cally to walk towards 
Lanesbury. He had 
no definite pur- 
pose except to see 
once more the fami- 
liar faces — his kind 
aunt, Obarles, above 
all, Lilv, poor Lily, 
who loved him, 
whom he had desert- 
ed 

He had walked 
many miles since 
morning; his over- 
w r a g h t powers 
seemed failing him ; 
and he was so 
hungry. But as he 
went the hunger 
passed ofiT, leaving 
only a feeling of 
faintness and ex- 
haustion. What if 
he were to drop by 
the roadside this bit- 
ter evening, and fall 
asleep, and be frozen 
to death ? He could 
not get mnch further 
— so weary he was, 
so faint, so cold ; but 
now the twinkliug 
lights of Lanesbury 
piercing the dusk, 
seemed to bid him 
take courage. The 
Ddvereuxes of the 
other days had borne 
fargreater harlships. 
He would not give 
up yet. And so a 
half-hour later found 
him in Lanesbury 
High Stroet,within a 
quarter of a mile of 
liis uncle's house. 

He took tbe fami- 
liar turn he knew so 
well.over tbe bridge, 
along the lane, across 
the fleldx. The new-mown hay 
was nia. ng the June air fragrant 
when he last came that way ; but 
now the ground was white with 
snow, and the old church bells 
were ringing their Christmas 
chimes. 

It was Ghristmas-ero. 

The faot dawned on Robin as a 
surprise; he had lost count of 
weeks and days, lately, when all 
were alike miserable. And this 
year there had been nothing to 
remind him of Christmas ; but in 
the great ugly, comfortable house 



Tonder, the lights were gleaming 
brightly, as oecame the season. 
Robin conld imagine the happy 
gronr ikssembled around the fire. 
In the cold anddufkaesshe crept 
safely and secretly throngh the 
dasky shrubbery up to the very 
house itself. Just then the click 
of the garden-gate startled him, 
and looking around he espied a 
troop of dark figures coming up 
the avenue. There were perhaps 
a dozen or more of them. Robin 
stole aside quietly, and hiding 
himself among a clump of lanre^.s 
watched their proceedings. 

The intruders— in whom he 
soon recognised the church choir 



" Well sung, lads ! and thank 
you. If you will go round to the 
back door, the housekeeper shall 
give yon tea and cake with a 
shilling a-piece to carry home 
with you. A merry Christmas to 
yon all !" 

" The same to you and yours, 
sir, and thank yon kindly," came 
the ready response, as the party 
trooped off. 

Warm tea and cake ! How 
tantalising the words sounded to 
poor Bobin, faint with his long 
fast ! He would fain have follow* 
ed, and shared the boys' meal : 
but pride forbade him to take his 
unole'scharity without his forgive- 





ROBIN PEKPINO IN AT THE WINDOW. 



— look up their position in front 
of the parlor-window, and in a 
moment more the simple strains 
of a Christmas carol were ringing 
through the frosty air. How 
peaoefally the words tell on 
Robin's aching heart ! Then came 
one or two other well-known airs, 
ending with the Christmas hymn, 
which touched Robin strangely. 
At the end the parlor window 
was thrown opon, the curtains 
undrawn, and Mv. Thorpe appear- 
ed, crying onu in his hearty 
voice, — 



n«S8. The window was closed 
iiow.bntthe curtains remained nu' 
drawn, for a streak of light stream' 
ed out upon the lawn. Cautiously 
and quietly Robin stole up like 
some midnight thief until he stood 
close under the window. Keep- 
ing well to one side he found a 
foothold upon the tough trunks of 
the ivy covering the nouse-front, 
and raised himself to a level with 
the sill. 

Other Robins, he well knew, 
were made welcome at that win- 
dow; fragments of their abundant 



morning-meal Jay yet scattered 
upon its threshold; but not a robin 
of them all wasmoredesolate.more 
famished,moreutterlyforlorn,than 
he. With a beating heart he peep- 
ed in at the window. There,on one 
side of the fireplace, sat his uncle ; 
and round the table were gathered 
the little ones, laughing merrily 
over some round game. Charles, 
as usual, sat with his book near 

the fireside ; and Lily Was 

Lily one of the players? No, 
She sat at her aunt's feet, at the 
other side of the chimney-piece, 
looking gravely into thefire. Now 
and then Mrs. Thorpe would 
bend down and lay a hand kindly 
on Lily 's head. 
Perhaps she guessed 
something of her 
thoughts that even- 
ing. 

Robin, the poor 
outoasi, looked on at 
all with hungry eyes, 
yearning for a crumb 
of love. He felt that 
he must get speech 
of Lily, have one 
kind word before he 
went forth again into 
the dreary, pitiless 
world; and looking 
more intently, he 
seemed to see some 
change in Lily as 
she turned her face 
now and again 
towards her merry 
cousins. She was 
thinner, surely , 
paler. Was she 
grieving for him ? 
Ah, poor Lily ! tie 
must see Lily for one 
moment before he 
went. But the night 
was so cold— so cold; 
and Bobin was get- 
ting numb ana 
cramped, and bis 
eyea were dim with 
sleep. 

Just then he miss- 
ed Lily from her 
place by tbe fireside : 
she had stolen softly 
from the room. His 
chief attraction was 
gone, and Robin slip- 
ped gentiy to the 
ground. 

Ha! What was 
that noise ? 

He started 

ne rvousiy, and 

shrank back into the 

deep shadow of the 

porch, as the hall-door gently 

opened and let a small, mufiied- 

up figure out into the starlit nighi 

It descended to the lov 'est step. 

and there paused, looking round 

right and left with intent, wiBtl'ul 

gaze; but not finding what it 

sought, it drew back sorrow lull v, 

with a long-drawn sigh, "()h, 

Robin ! Robin !' 

Robin in his hiding-place heard, 

and could bear it no longer. He 

stole out, and laid a hand upon 

his sister's arm. 

" I am here, Lily," he said. 






m- 



•m 



w \i 



^ 



et aoattered 
t not a robin 
isolate.more 
forlorn.than 
larthepeep* 
'here, on one 
it his uncle; 
)re gathered 
Ing merrily 
». Charles, 
I book near 

ly Was 

lyers? No. 

feet, at the 
mney-piece, 
lefire. Now 
>rpe wonld 
band kindly 
y 's head, 
she guessed 
g of her 

that even- 

the poor 

looked on at 

tnngry eyes. 

foracrnmh 

He felt that 

get speech 

, hare one 

rd before he 

th again into 

iry, pitiless 

and looking 

itently, he 

to see some 

in Lily as 

led her face 

and again 

her merry 

She was 

er, surely , 

Was she 

for htm ? 

Lily! He 
) Lily for one 

before he 
Bat the night 
old— so cold; 
Nn was get- 
mmb ana 
and his 
e dim with 

len he miss- 
from her 
the fireside : 
stolen softly 

room. His 
taction was 

Robin slip- 
itly to the 

What was 
|e? 
started 
nsly, and 
ack into the 
dow of the 
loor gently 
ill, muflled- 
itarlit night 
lo\'est stop, 
king Touiul 
ent, wistful 
g what It 
lorrowluilr, 
sigh, "Ob, 

>laoe heard, 

onger. He 

hand upon 



!; 



f 



m 



he 



Zi 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE « NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



9hm 



46 



ROttly. "Hash! Don't tell any 
one." 

Bat as thongh it were the most 
iiataral thing in the world to see 
him there, Luy attered a jorful 
little cry, and clasped him close, 
and kissed him, and drewhim in 
across the threshold, ricrht into 
the warm hall, poor, cold little 
wanderer ! 

" He has come back !" she cried, 
joyfully " Robin has come back 
at last !" 

The parlor-door flew open at 
the cry, and all carae harrying out. 
Robin penitent and ashamed, hid 
his heaid on Lily's shoalder, and 
could not face them. 

Bat Lily interpreted his 
silence. 

" Oh, ancle — aunt—forgive 
him ! I know he is sorry, poor 
Robin !'" 

" What, Robin ! You have not 
made your fortune then?" cried 
his uncle. 

But the kind aunt came for- 
ward, p.nd patted his head. 

" Robin has been very wrong 
and foolish ; bat we most forget 
and forgive ' at Ohristmas-time," 
she said pleasantly ; " He will be 
wiser in future." 

And then she led him in to the 
cheerful fireside, and warmed his 
numbed hands, and brought him 
food and drink, until soothed by 
all her care and kindness, Robin 
at last forgot his troubles in a long 
and dreamless sleep. 

* * * * * * * * 

Robin's place in the family cir- 
cle remained empty many weeks 
yet. Sometimes the anxious 
watchers by his bedside wonder 
«d sadly would it ever be 
tilled up again. The weariness 
and exposure of that Christmas 
Eve, and the hard days which had 
gone before it, brought on an 
attack of low fever, which was 
slow in yielding to the good 
nursing he received. 

One day when he was slowly 
recovering, being already promot- 
ed from bed to an easy-chair in 
his room, Lily, who was always 
devising something to give him 
pleasure, brought him a card- 
board scroll, on which she had il- 
luminated the words, "Noblesse 
oblige." 

Qreat was her disappointment 
when Robin, usoally so grateful, 
pushed it away from him, saying 
almost impatiently, " Oh, no, Lilv! 
I never want to hear those words 
again. They are the cause of all 
my misfortunes." 

Lily was humbly :etreating 
with the despised present, when 
her uncle, who was just entering 
and had overheard Robin's speech, 
etopped her 

"Nay, Robin," he said, kindly, 
"the little maid meant well; and 
the words" (taking the scroll from 
Lily) " are good words, as I under- 
stand them. The inheritance of 
A noble name from good, and wise, 
und brave fertfathers, does oblige 
n man to take care and keep it 
untarnished; but doing with 

^M 



might and main whatever work 
comes to your hand won't soil it. 
You despise trade, my boy ; yet 
honest barter of one man's goods 
for another man's money is no 
shame. It's the mean tricks, 
and double-dealing, and craspiuff 
avarice of those who wilt be rich 
at any cosi which degrade and 
debase. Deal honorably, Robin. 
Let vonr word be as good as your 
bond ; and whatever your calling 
in life may be, never fear that yon 
will disgrace the name of Deve- 



reui. 



THE END. 



LITTLE JAPANESE. 
Here is something interesting I 
found about the habits and dress 
of the children in Japan. In the 



Japanese children is the same as 
that of an adult. The sleeves are 
open on the inner edge, with a 
pocket on the outer side. Thedress 
is very simple, easy av.d free, with 
tucks to let down as the child 
grows,so that,as the fashions never 
change and the dross is made of 
strong silk brocade, or silk and 
cotton, it will last from ten to 
twenty years. 

The children's shoes are made 
of blocks of wood, secured with 
cord. The stocking resembles a 
mitten,having a separate place for 
the great toe. As these bhoes are 
lifted only by the toes, the heels 
make a rattling sound as their 
owner's walk, which is qaite stun- 
ning in a crowd. They are not 
worn in the house, as they would 




OUTLINE DRAWINd LESSON KOE THE TOUNO, 

(B.y Harrison Weir.) 



first place the character of the 
Japanese houses saves much 
trouble about children. There 
are no stairs to tumble down, no 
furniture for them to tumble 
over, no sticky food with which 
to bedaub themselves. So there 
is seldom need to reprove them. 
They are rarely heard to cry ; but 
when they do break forth, they 
make a tremendous racket, yelling 
with great fierceness. In his 
travels through the country. Prof. 
Morse only once saw boys fight- 
ing ; and then they wore only slap- 
ping aach other. The dress of the 



ininre the soft straw mats with 
which the floor is covered. The 
Japanese shoe gives perfect free- 
dom to the foot. The beauty of 
the human foot is only seen in the 
Japanese. They have no corns, 
no ingrowing nails, no distorted 
joints. Our children's toes are 
cramped until they are deformed, 
and are in danger of extinction. 
The Japanese have the full use of 
their toes, and to them they are 
almost like fingers. 

The babies are taken care of on 
the backs of the older children, 
to which they are fastened by 



loose bands. Yon wil ! see a dozen 
little girls with babies' asleep on 
their backs, engaged in playing 
battledore, the l>abies hetuis bob- 
bing up and down. This is 
better than crying in the 
cradle. The baby sees eveiytuing, 
goes everywhere, gets plenty of 
pure air ; and the sister who 
carries itgots her shoulders braced 
back and doubtleRS come lessons 
of patience. Itisfitnny tosee the 
little tots, when they fgin to run 
alone, carrying their doi. on their 
back. 

Where we have one toy the 
Japanese have athousand. Every- 
thing in art and nature is imitated 
in miniature. Toys can be bought 
for half a cent, and elegant ones 
for eight or ten cents. There are 
stands on the streets kept by old 
women, where little girls can buy 
a spoonful of batter and bake their 
own top cakes. Then, along comes 
a man with a long bucketful of 
soap suds, of which he sells a cup- 
ful for the hundredth part of a 
cent (they have coins as small as 
that;, to children who blow soap 
bubbles through bamboo reeds. 
The babies make mud pius and 
play at keeping house just as ours 
do. They are taught always to 
be polite, and say, " Thank you." 
If you give a child a penny, he 
will not only thank you at the 
time but whenever he meets you 
again. — Ex. 



I 



BCiYS, 



READ AND 
THIS. 



HEED 



Many people seem to forget that 
character grows : that it "is not 
something to put on ready-made 
with womanhood or manhood ; 
but day by day, here a little, and 
there a little, grows with the 
growth, and strengthens with the 
strength, until, good or bad, it be- 
comes almost a coat of mail. Look 
at a man of business — prompt, 
reliable, conscientious, yet clear- 
headed and energetic. When do 
you suppose he developed all 
those admirable qualities ? When 
he was a boy ? Let us see how a 
boy of ten years gets np in the 
morning, works, plays, studies, 
and we will tell you just what 
kind of a man he will make. Tho 
boy that is too late at breakfast, 
late at school, stands a poor 
chance to be a prompt man. The 
boy who neglects his duties, be 
they ever so small, and then 
excuses himself by saying: "I 
forgot; I didn't think!" will never 
be a reliable man ; and tho boy 
who fiiidspleasure in tho suffering 
of weaker things will never be a 
noble, generous, kind man — a 
gentleman. If people wore more 
carefulof their character than they 
are of their reputation, thev would 
soon be more pleasing to (iod and 
more useful to their fellow-aian,T— 
S. S. Messenger. ,|, j „j:.^... 

In private, watch your thoughts; 
in the family, watch your temper , 
in company, watch your tongue. 

.^1. 



.1 



46 



I THE FOBCBPS CRAB. 

Tho strange looking cieatnre 
ropresented in the accompanyinff 
engraving, aays VTood's " Natural 
History," is a good swimmer. It 
roams the ocean as freely as a bird 
roams the air, shooting through 
the waves with arrowv swiftness 
in chase of prey, gliding easily 
along jnst below the snrface, hang- 
ing snsiMjnded in the water while 
reposing, or occasionally lying 
across some floating eeaweed. 

The chief pecnJiarity of the 
forceps crab is the structure from 
which its name is derived, the 
wonderful length of the first pair 
of limbs, and the attenuated for* 
ceps with which they are armed. 
Though not possessing the for- 
midable power with wliioh some 
crabs are armed, the forceps crab 
is y«t a terrible enemy to the in- 
habitants of the sea, for itcan dart 
out its long claws with a rapidity 
that almost eludes the eye, and 
grasp its prey with unerring 
aim. 

No one who has not watched 
the crabs in their full vigor 
while enjoying their freedom, 
can form any conception of 
the many uses to which the 
claws are put. Their bony 
armor, with its powerful joints 
appears to preclude all delicac) 
of touch or range of distinc 
tion, and yet the claws are to 
the crab what the proboscis is 
to the elephant. With these 
apparently inadequato mem- 
bers the crab can pick up the 
smallest object with perfec- 
tion and precision, can tear in 
pieces the toughest animal 
substances, or crack the skull 
of other cinstaceans as a par 
rot cracks a nut in his beak 
It can direct them to almost 
ovary part of his body, can 
snap with them like the quick 
sharp bite of a wolf, or can 
strike with their edses as a 
boxer strikes with his fists. 
As may be seen by reference 
to the engraving the paddle 
legs are broad and well de- 
veloped, so as to insure speed, the 
front of the carapace is sharply 
and deeply serrated, and the sides 
are drawn out into long pointed 
spines. It is a native of the West 
Indian seas, and is represented 
about the size of an ordinary 
specimen. 



REPRINTED STORIES, PROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER.' 



but he came home one dby, at last, 

and said : 
" Mother, I've got a place." 
"What sort of a plac«?" asked 

his mother. 

factory," said Dick 



mother shook her 



"In the 
cheerfully. 

But the 
head. 

"I don't half like it my boy," 
she said. " They are dangerous 
places, these factories. Some day 
you'll be going to near the big 
wheels, or the bands, or some- 
thing, and then — " 

She stopped and shuddered; 
but Dick only laughed. 

" Well, what then, mother ?" he 
said. " What do you think is go- 
ing to happen to a fellow with a 
cool head and a steady hand ? Al- 
most all the accidents that you 
hear of happen because the peo- 
ple are careless, or because they 
get frightened, and don't know 
what they are about ? I'm not 



By the time he had been there 
for a month or two, he had for- 
gotten all about the danger, and 
even his mother began to think 
that he was as. safe there as in his 
own house. 

That is always . the way when 
you are used to things, you know. 
People who live under the shadow 
of a volcano forget that the burn- 
ing lava ever streams down its 
sides and desolates the country 
around. Some day it does so, 
though, and sometimes accidents 
happen even to the most confident 
boy. 

Was Diok careless that day ? I 
don't know, and neither did he. 
He thought that he was doing his 
work as steadily and as carefully 
as usual; but suddenly he felt 
something — just a lit ^itch at 

his sleeve ; nothing i .1 to mind 
if you are playing ^-ith your 
school-mates, but then Dick was 
not playing with his school-mates. 




II 



PRESENCE OF MIND. 

This is a true story, about a real 
lioy. The boy's name is Dick. 
This is not a very uncommon 
name, and his last name is not an 
uncommon one either. I am not 
going to tell you what it is though, 
for perhaps he would not like 
it. 

Dick's father died when his son 
was jnst able to toddle. After a 
while Dick grew to be a pretty 
big boy. Then he began to be 
anxious to get something to do to 
help his mother. It was a good 
while before he found anything ; 



FOBCEPS 8WIMHINU c&jLB.-'(Lupa forcepy) 



going to be careless and I'm not There was no one near enough to 



going to get frightened. And 
mother, even if anything very 
bad did happen to me, I shouiid 
be doing my duty, shouldn't I ? 
You wouldn't have a great fellow 
like me staying around here idle 
for fear of getting into danger, 
would you ?" 

" Well, no, I suppose not," said 
his mother, remembering what a 
bad thing idleness is for anybody, 
and how surely it leads boys, 
as well as men, into mischief 

So the next day Dick was at 
his post in the factory. I cannot 
tell what sort of a factory it was, 
nor exactly what he had to do 
there. Nobody ever told me that 
part of it. All I know is that he 
spent tho days among the great, 
whirring machinery, and that he 
did his work steadily and well, 
in spite of noise, and confusion, 
and dust, and fatigue, and dan- 
ger 



give him that twitch.and he know 
in an instant what it meant — that 
the fingers that gripped him 
were iron fingers, and that the 
pulse that beat in thom was 
the cruel, merciless pulse of 
steam. 

Most boys would at least have 
looked around in sudden surprise 
— would have yielded for a mo- 
ment to the twitch and then — tho 
horror, and agony, and death. 
What did Dick do? Quick as a 
flash the thought came : 

" I am caughtin the machinery 
I can't help that, but I 
drawn in. I won't ! I won't ! I 
WON'T ! " 

It was hardly a thought, you 
know, only a swift, wordless in- 
stinct. Then he set his teeth, and 
clenched his fists, and braced 
every nerve and muscle to stand 
like a rock, while the machinery 
did its work. 



" Crack ! crack !" 

That was his shirt, pulled 08 
him like tho husk of an ear of 
corn. 

"Crack! crack!" 

That was his merino shirt, and 
Dick stood rigid and motionless 
still, with not an atom of clothing 
from his waist up. 

The men around him had not 
been so quiet as he, yon may bo 
sure. There had l>een shrieks 
and cries enough when they saw 
what had happened, but the ma- 
chinerjr could not be stopped all 
in a minute let the engineer try 
as he would. 

It seemed a century to the men 
though it was only three or four 
minutes before the great wheels 
shivered and stood still. Some of 
the men had covered their eyes, 
fearing to see— what? Splashes 
of blood on the floor and walls, 
and a horrible, mangled mass, 
tangled and brok.<n m an iron 

grip- 

What did thor a who dared 
to look see ? Only a curly 
haired, bright-eyed boy, who 
looked around at them as 
quietly and boldly as if no- 
tning at all had happened. 

Why Smith," said Dick, 
looking at the man nearest 
him, "now pale you are ! And 
Jones is trembling like a leaf, 
and Brown can hardly stand ! 
Why I'm the best off of you all 
— if I haven't got many clothes 
left," he added, as he looked 
down at himself. "If some- 
body will lend me a coat, I 
think I'd better gu home and 
g^t another shirt. 
***** 
" So you see, mother," said 
Dick, " what I told you is true. 
If a fellow's head is cool, and 
his nerves steady, there isn't 
much fear for him. And the 
good Lord keeps watch in 
the factories as well as out- 
side. 

Now, what I want yon to 
notice about this story is this : 
It was not Dick's good luck 
that saved him, but simply his 
courage and presence of mind. 
If he had yielded for one instant 
to the grip of the machinery— if 
he had hesitated for a moment 
what to do — that moment would 
have been his last. 

Don't you think that there is a 
lesson in all this, if you t^e it 
the right way 1— Central Ckritlia* 
Advocate. 



•H9 



It is the habitual thought that 
frames itself into our life. It af- 
fects us even more than our inti- 

_^_ Tiate social relations do. Onrcon- 

won't'^e 'id^'tii*'} friends have not so much 
to do in shaping our lives as tho 
thoughts have which we harbor. 
—J.W. Teal. 



Conduct is the great profession. 
Behavior is the perpetual reveal- 
ing of us. What a man does tells 
us what he is.— F. O. Hunting- 
ton, 



n 



«H9IP 



r 



*^ 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



47 



BUTTONS. 



"Button, button, who has the 
button ?" asked a glove that had 
been dropped on the toilet- 
table. 

" I've got it," answered Jimmy's 
jacket. " I've several buttons in 
fact." 

" No," put in the closet door, " I 
have it myself; the carpenter gave 
it to me." 

" I had a dozen or so," said a 
boot, looking rather down at the 
heel. 

"And I have a hundred or 
more," yawned the easy-chair, 
•' but they don't button anything ; 
they don't belong to the working 
class." 

"Here's a bachelor's button," 
remarked a vase of flowers on the 
bureau. 

" There's a button-wood tree in 
the garden," said the button- 
hooker. " I suppose you all grew 
there." 

" I know better than that,"pout 
ed the closet-door " Mine grew 
in the veins of the earth, where 
all the precious metals are found 
It's a poor relation of theirs." 

"And we," added a pair of 
ivory sleeve-buttons, " we grew 
in the land of the white elephant. 
We were carved from the tusks of 
the leader, who threaded the 
jungles and swam the rivers at 
the head of his troops." 

" My buttons," said the glove, 
" were nearly related to the gem 
which Oleopatra dissolved for 
Antony. They were mother-of- 
pearl, grown in the shell of the 
pearl oyster, for which divers risk 
their lives." 

" That's something of a fish 
story," thought Jimmy's jacket. 
" My buttons are only glass ; but 
glass is sometimes made of sand, 
and who knows but their atoms 
may have been swept down to 
the sea-shore from ■ farthest 
India?'" 

"And I," wUspered the 
bachelor's button, " I sprang from 
a tiny seed, with all my uplendor 
of blue and purple wings, like the 
Afrite from the jar which the 
fisherman found on the beach. It 
is a miracle how I was packed 
away there V'—St. yicholas. 



"DIDN'T I. DAN?" 

" Jimmy, have you watered my 
horse this morning ?" 

" Yes, ancle, I watered him ; 
didn't I, Dan ?" he added, turning 
to his younger brother. 

" Of coarse you did," responded 
Dan. 

The gentleman looked at the 
boys a moment, wondering a 
little at Jimmy's words ; then he 
rode away. 

This was Mr. Harley's first vis.. 
with his nephews, and thus far he 
had been pleased with their 
bright, intelligent faces and kind 
behavior. Still there was some- 
thins in Jimmy's appeal to his 
brother that impressed him un- 
favorably, he could hardly tell 
why; but the cloud of disfavor 



had vanished from his mind 
when, two hours later, he turned 
his horse's head homeward. Just 
in the bend of the road ho met 
his nephews, Jimmy bearing a 
gun over his shoulder. 

"Did your father give you 
permission to carry that gun ?" he 
inquired. 

" Yes, sir," replied Jimmy ; 
' didn't he, Dan ? " 

" Of course he did," said Dan. 

" And of course I believe you, 
Jimmy, without your brother's 
word for it," said Mr. Harley. 

Jimmy's face flushed and his 
bright eye fell below his uncle's 
gaze. Mr. Harley noticed his 



he looked as if he would like to 
vanish from his uncle's sight. 

"Not always," he murmured, 
looking down at his boots. 

" My dear boy, I was afraid of 
this," said Mr. Harley kindly. 
" The boy who dlways speaks the 
truth has no need to seek confirma- 
tion from another. Do you mean 
to go through life always having 
to say: ' Didn't I, Dan ?" 

" No, uncle ; I'm going to try to 
speak the truth so that people will 
believe me as well as Dan," said 
Jimmy, impulsively. 

Mr. Harley spent the season 
with his nephews, and before he 
left he had the pleasure of hear- 



^ #a6Sif€Jr{p[]^Ttomurj(^ S^j^ 



nephew's confusion and rode on 
without further comment. 

" This map of North America is 
finely executed ; did you draw 
it, Jimmy ? ashed Mr. Harley that 
afternoon, while looking over a 
book of drawings, 

" Yes, sir," replied Jimmy, with 

look of conscious pride ; then 
turning to his brother he added, 
"didn't I, Dan?" 

Mr. Harley closed the book and 
laid it on the table. 

"Jimmy;" he began, "what 
does this mean? To every question 
that I have asked you to-day you 
have appealed to Dan to confirm 



ing the people say, " What's come 
over Jimmy Page ? He never 
says lately, ' didn't I, Dan?"' 

Mr. Harley thought it was be- 
cause Jimmy was gaining confi- 
dence in himself. Do you, chil- 
dren? — Little Sower. 



your reply. Cannot 
word be trusted ?" 
Jimmy's face turned scarlet, and 



MAKING A QUEEPT. 

Bees do not usually want more 
than one queen. In fact, they 
will not have more than one unless 
the swarm has grown so large as 
to crowd the hive and they are 
going to found a colony, or 
"swarm," as it is called; in which 
your own 'case each family will need a 
I sovereign. As soon as it is clear 
to the wiseacres that it will be 



necessary to send oflTc swarm, the 
bees go to work to make a queen. 
A worker maggot, or if there 
happens to be none in the hive, 
a Worker egg, is selected near the 
edgeof the comb. Two cells next 
door to the one in which this 
maggot is are cleared out, and the 
dividing walls are out down, so 
that three ordinary cells are turn- 
ed into one. The food which the 
worker worm has been feeding on 
is removed, and the little creature 
is supplied with a new kind of 
food, — a royal jelly Change of 
food, a larger room, and a different 
position, — the queen's cell hangs 
down instead of being horizontal, 
— these three changesof treatment 
turn the bee that is developing 
from a worker into a queen. She 
is difiisrent in her outer shape, 
difiierent in almost all her orphans, 
and difiierent in every single 
instinct. There is nothing else in 
all nature that seems to me more 
wonderful than this. 

Fqt fear that one queen may 
not come out all right the 
provident little creatures usually 
start two or three queen-cells at 
once. It is curious to watch the 
fi-rst queen as she comes out. She 
moves up and down the combs 
looking for otherqueen-cells,and if 
she find8one,she falls upon it in the 
greatest excitement.and stings her 
rival to death. Sometimes, by 
accident, two new queens come 
out at the same ^une ; then it is 
wonderful to see the bees. They 
clear a space and bring the two 
rival queens together, and stand 
back to watch the fight. And it 
is a royal fight indeed; a fi^ht 
to the death, for they never give 
up till one or the other is fatally 
stung. The victor is then accepted 
as sovereign. — St. Nichulwi. 



A 



CHARACTERISTIC OF 
SELF-MADE MEN. 

What they do, they do thorough- 
ly. Many people know every- 
thing, and yet know nothing; 
they read on all subjects, but 
muster no subject. 

Kobert Hall was once asked 
whether he thought Dr. Rippis a 
clever man? He replied that 
" probably he was, naturally, but 
he had laid so many books on his 
brains that they could not 
move." 

Self-made men have read bnt 
few books, bnt how thoroughly 
they have mastc : ' ; *Vose few ! 
Better one rood oi -(id you can 
hold for your own for ever than 
acres held in uncertain oc- 
cupation. One thing at a time, 
and do it well — yea, as well as 
you can. 

" Billy Gray, what do you 
presume to scold me for ? You 
area rich man,it is true, but didn't 
I know you when you were 
nothing but a drummer ?" 

" Well, " said Mr Gray, "didn't X 
drum well, eh ? didn't I drum 
well ?" 

The men who have risen from 
the ranks have all done their 
drumming well. — Smiles. 



w 



«Hi» 






REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER." 






i 



"RED DAVE"; 

Or, " Wlwt wilt Thou have m« to do T 

(Ami Uu Famat iV<md 

OHAPTEKI. 

DATIB. 

" II jroo «UB«t sroM tb* ocoa, 

A&d tht hMtbtn lands txplor*, 
Ton MB Had IIM butlMa amrar, 

Yoa oaa h«lp Itacu at joar door; 
If jroQ MBaol tpcak llkt aDieli, 

If 70a eannot preacii tlka Paal, 
Von can UU Um Iot* of Jhiu— 

Van aaa MT Ha dlad (or aU." 

The prison gates swung slowly 
back, and the constable who held 
the keys lifted np his lantern for 
a moment amid the fog. 

"Thick, ain't it, little chap?" 
said he, as a child stepped forth 
firom the gaol ; " whidi way are 
you going — into the town ?" 

" No, sir," was the answer, half- 
frightened, half defiant, as Davie 
shrank back from the portly offi- 
cer. 

" Tou won't make much of the 
country roads in this here mist, 
my lad ; you'll get dropping into 
some ditch, as sure as my name's 
John Q-regson. Haven't you got 
nobody a-waiting for yon out- 
side? That's a pity! well, get 
back into Mereham, but take my 
advice and keep clear of the Jar- 
vis lot, or you'll be lodging here 
again," and then the buH's-eye 
disappeared, the door was double- 
locked, and Dave found himself 
alone, outside the gates, in the 
midst of a dense December fog. 

Very cold and hungry was lit- 
tle Dave, for his breakfast had 
been a spare one, and the rags he 
was wearing again after three 
weeks' prison uniform, were no 
protection against the damp,chilly 
mist ; but it was almost a relief to 
him that the day of his release 
was not bright and fine. He 
slunk along close to the high,dark 
wall, feeling that the fog seemed 
somehow to agree with his own 
condition — which was truly about 
as miserable a one as a boy could 
know. 

Three weeks ago, " Red Dave" 
(as they called him) was selling [ 
matches, sweeping crossings.holu 
ing horses, and fetching beer for 
the shoeblacks and stall-keepers 
in Mereham Market and High 
street ; now the prison scissors 
have cropped the red tangled 
curls, and Dave feels that his 
shaven head must betray to all 
that he is a " gaol-bird" let loose — ' 
something worse than the street- 
boy who slept in arches and bar- 
rows, and even in unused sewer- 
pipes ! He understood, as he 
crept along, thatthe fog was deep- 
er than ever now— deeper even 
than on that ni^^ht so long ago, 
when they carried him, a little 
frightened child, from his work- 
house crib, to " kiss mother good- 
bye." 

He was not a prison-boy then ; 
he had not stood in the dock, nor 
slept in the cell ! 

How could he now return to 
town ? All the people in the 
market knew he had been taken 
np. The shoeblacks in the High 



Street had seen him marched 
along, the policeman's hand above 
hia elbow. 

And Jarvis— Jarvis was free ! 

As Dave remembered him, he 
burst out in the darkness into 
oaths and cnrsA; all the wild pas- 
sion of his nature vented itself in 
the dreadful words he had heard 
from the lips of drunkards and 
profane men in the prison. 

" If I had him here in the fog, 
by this wall, I'd kill him ; when- 
ever I get a chance, I'll kill him." 

The strong brown fists were 
mercilessly clenched, the blue 
eyes flashed like a furious beast's ; 
Jarvis, with his greater strength 
of six more years of Arab life, 
must have suffered sorely had he 
crossed the boy's path then. 

It was only an everyday story, 



likewise the fascinating picture 
on the first page of the paper he 
was carrying. How Jarvis must 
have prospered since the days 
when he, too, ran bare-footed in 
the market, helping the farm-mer. 
to unload in the chill of the early 
morning, for the sake of a copper 
or a bunch of raw turnips ! 

Very condescending was Ben 
Jarvis that night; he read Dave 
portions of the histories of cele- 
brated robbers and highwaymen, 
and showed the excited child all 
the fascinating pictures that illiu- 
trated their wealth and daring, 
but omitted to show the end oJ 
their career, which was ruin and 
disgrace, and the death of a crimi- 
nal. 

A second invitation found 
Dave quite readj for the novel at- 




' HILLOO, YOUNQSTEB ! LOST YOUR WAY. KH ! 



though a tragedy to " Red Dave." 
One evening, when Dave sat 
supperless in the market, within 
the warmth of a hot potato stall, 
Jarvis came sauntering in, and of- 
fered to treat him to the play. 
Now little Dave had never seen 
a play, and felt too cold and hun- 
gry to cure to turn out in the 
street, so as Jarvis jingled the 
change in his pocket, the boy said 
eagerly he'd rather have " one of 
them there 'taters." 

Jarvis treated him to a couple 
on tne spot, ordering the man to 
" pepper 'em well," and then sat 
down beside Dave, whilst the sup- 
per was hastily devoured. All the 
time he was eating, Dave noticed 
with wonder and respect his com- 
panion's brilliant scarf-pin and 
spotted tie, and shining boots; 



tractions of the "penny gaff"; 
there Jarvis mixed with a num- 
ber of boys about fifteen and six- 
teen, who were indulging freely 
in beer. They offered some to 
Dave, but he had tasted it before, 
and it had made his head so bad 
that the very sight of it seemed to 
bring back the sick pain again, 
and he would not touch it. The 
lights and the singing seemed, 
however, half to intoxicate him ; 
he began to roar out the choruses 
so loudly that the crowd turned 
to " chaff" him, and when Jarvis 
launched into a fight with another 
lad, Dave distributed blows on 
his behalf right and left. There 
was a call for order from the 
stage, and a policeman appeared 
on the scene. Jarvis and his foe 
became invisible, but Dave stood 



full in view, his angry face fltuh- 
ed and bleeding, Vis ragged 
sleeves turned np. 

The constable bade him " be 
off out of this," and kept him in 
memory for any future occasion, 
as a patron of that " gaff," which 
was well known as a resort of 
young pick-pockets and burglars. 

Jarvis continued to patronize 
Dave, who became exceedingly 
proud of the notice of such a 
young " swell." 

One day Jarvis called for him 
in the market, saying that a great 
crowd was collecting in the High 
Street to see some of the Royal 
Family pass by. Dave had very 
exalted notions of the Royal 
Family, and with a vision of 
crowns and sceptres before his 
mind, he only waited to don an 
old pair of hobnailed boots in 
honor of such grandeur, and rush- 
ed out to join the throng. 

The High Street was crowded ; 
people pushed and jostled one 
another, and Davie found he 
could scarcely see anything at all, 
.for the people's heads towered far 
atMve him. Impatiently he turn- 
ed and twisted about to get a 
good place ere the carriages ap- 
proached, till the surrounding 
spectators bade him angrily be 
still, and ho turned to Jarvis with 
the exclamation, '"Tain't no 
good staying here ! I mean to 
climb a lamp-post." 

Jiut then a gentleman seized 
hold of his arm, shaking him in- 
dignantly. 

"Where is my purse, you 
onng thief? Stop him! Stop 
thief!" 

For Davie, frightened and be- 
wildered, made a movement to 
escape. 

A dozen hands caught hold of 
him at once, and a woman's voice 
shrieked out, "Police! Police!" 
In another instant a member of 
the police force had Dave down 
on the pavement turning out his 
solitary pocket. Within they 
found a rotten apple, a dirty 
string, and — a leather purse ! 

" I didn't take it— I didn't, sir," 
protested Dave; but the gentle- 
man said sternly, "It is useless 
for you to tell falsehoods now; 
the purse was found upon you ;" 
then, as he opened it, he discover- 
ed that it was empty. 

" Search him again, policeman," 
said he ; " my money is gone ; 
there were four sovereigns and 
some shillings." 

The policeman shook out his 
jacket again. 

" I know the boy," he said ; " ha 
belongs to a bad lot— he is in with 
young Jarvis, who gives us the 
slip like an eel. This chap must 
have collared the money, and 
passed it on to one of his pals." 

"I saw him shifting and 
wheedling about, a-slipping from 
side to side just now," sud the 
shrill female voice that had called 
for a constable. "He tried to 
make off just as the gentleman 
missed his purse," said another. 

"I hain't done nothing," sai 



mn^ 






U' 



face flush- 
ragged 



[e him "be 
kept him in 
re occasion, 
B^afl," which 
a resort of 
id burglars, 
to patronize 
exceedingly 
i of such a 

led for him 

that a threat 

in the High 

>fthe Royal 

ve had very 

the Royal 

a vision of 

I before his 

d to don an 

id boots in 

ur, and rnsh- 

ong. 

as crowded ; 
jostled oiiu 
I found he 
ything at all, 
i towered far 
ntly he turn- 
ut to get a 
sarriages ap- 
surroundiiig 
I angrily be 
I Jarvis with 
"'Tain't no 
I mean to 

eman seized 
ing him in- 

purse, yon 
him ! Stop 

led and be- 
tovement to 

ight hold of 
iman's voice 
\e\ Police!" 
member of 
iDave down 
jng oat his 
ithin they 
|le, a dirty 
purse ! 
didn't, sir," 
the gentle- 
is useless 
loods now; 
,pon you ;" 
,e discover- 

[>oliceman," 
is gone ; 
Ireigns and 

Dk out his 

I said ; " ha 
I is in with 
Ives us the 
Ichap must 
Iney, and 
ns pals." 
■ting and 
pping from 
I' said the 
|had called 

tried to 
tentloman 

other, 
img," sat 



am 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



Dave, looking half blindly from 
the one to the other, wondering 
why Jarvis was not there 
to help him, yet with a sadden 
sickening revulsion of certainty 
that Jarvis had used him as a tool 
for the then. 

"Will you charge him, sir?" 
asked the constable. 

" Certainly ; it will be a warn- 
ing to him," answered the gentle- 
man; and after a moments vio- 
lent resistance on the part of 
Dave, the three proceeded to- 

frether to the police-station, fol- 
owed by a small crowd of 
juveniles. 

The magistrate was sitting in 
court, and the evidence was laid 
before him, added to which Davie 
was charged with severely as- 
saulting the policeman, whom, in 
trying to escape, ho bad kicked 
with nis hobnailed boots. 

Sentence was passed upon him 
for the theft and assault — three 
weeks in all ; and the red head 
disappeared from the dock, and 
Dave waa a prison-boy. 

He went down to the gaol in 
the van, feeling as though he 
" didn't care now what became of 
him — not he ;" and he came out 
three weeks later a desolate child, 
int.'/ the shrouding fog. 

Chapter ll. 

SUNNTSIDB. 

Cold and hungry and friend- 
less, Darie wandered on to a 
Sretty village on the outskirts of 
[erenam ; many an artist loved 
to linger at Bankside, on account 
of its beautiful river scenery, and 
others stayed there in fine 
weather for the sake of boating 
and fishing. 

The fog was clearing now, and 
Davie could see the shining river 
spanned bv an ornamental bridge, 
and the handsome villas with 
their spreading lawns and con- 
Bervat«ries full of rare choice 
flowers. 

"How fine it mast be to be 
rich !" thought Davie, gazing at 
the gleam of the firelight upon 
crimson curtains and plate-glass 
wmdows ; " there's food to be had 
in there — they don't know what 
it is to be all over cuts and chil- 
blains, and not a bit of bread a- 
lying about anywhere to be pick- 
ed up, that I can see." 

Slowly and hesitatinglv (for 
Davie was thoroughly frightened 
of all this grandeur) he entered 
the opened gate of one of the finest 
of the mansions, intending to make 
his way to the kitchen entrance, 
and beg for a little food. But the 
approach to " Sunnyside" was 
rather perplexing, and he found 
himself instead oefore the deop 
bar window of a laree, comfort- 
able room, into which he could 
look quite plainly from the gravel 
path outside. 

Something like envy filled the 
heart of thalittle outcast as he 
gazed upon a boy, attired in 
warm black velvet, who lay upon 
a conch, comfortably wrapped in 
a handsome skin rug. This child 



of luxury seemed about his own 
age, but oh! what a difference 
there was between them I 

"He's had dinner, I reckon," 
thought Davie, miserably ; "maybe 
plum duff, and gravy 'taters. 
There ain't no shivering for him, 
neither. Ain't he just snug, and 
ain't ho a-langhing Jolly like with 
them there kittens, and don't that 
'ere lady seem fond of him just?" 

A gentle-faced lady, who had 
been sitting in the arm-chair by 
the fire reading aloud to the little 
bov, here rose and settled his sofa 
pillows for him more comfortably. 

" Guess ijl's good to have a 
mother," thought poor Davie, 
turning gloomily away; he did 
not know that in one respect he 
and Wilfrid Joyce were alike, tor 
they were both motherless ; but 
Dr. Joyce's sister in Wilfred's 
case, tried hard to supply the 
place of a mother to her little 
nephew. 

" Hallo, youngster ! lost your 
way, eh ? You mustn't come 
tramping about the front garden." 

The speaker was a good-natured 
man in coachman's livery; in 
Davie's eyes he was very impos- 
ing, and the frightened bov falter- 
ed out, that he \f as very hungry. 

" Well, yon won't get food, star- 
ing at mistress and young Master 
Willie ; come round here to the 
kitchen, and I'll warrant cook can 
find you some broth." 

Davie opened eyes, ears, and 
mouth; it was good fortune 
enough to be addressed so kindly, 
but to be promised broth, and 
actually to detect a warm savory 
smell as he neared the cook's do- 
mains! 

But, unfortanately, just at that 
moment a side cate opened, and 
in walked a gcnucman, at sight of 
whom Davie would have taken 
to his heels and fled, bat that 
fright seemed to chain him to the 
spot. 

"How often shall I have to 
order tramps away from the 
stable-yard ?" he asked sternly ; 
and then, seeing Davie's face, he 
exclaimed, " Why, this is the 
young thief who stole my purse 
last month — the daring rascal to 
come prowling aboat my house! 
I'll take care you lay hands on 
nothing here, you good-for-noth- 
ing fellow ! Be off, or I will send 
for a policeman." 

*' Please, sir," pleaded Griffiths, 
with the privilege of an old ser- 
vant, " he's such a little chap, and 
mistress said as how the broth 
was to be given away at the door 
this bitter weather." 

But Davie was already out of the 
front gate, and a long way down 
the road, and Dr. Joyce passed in 
to toaet himself at the fire, and 
take an hoar's rest before tea with 
his idolized child, Wilfred. 

Mrs. Joyce had died when her 
little boy was born ; ihe waa a 
sweet Christian woman, and 
though ahe coald scarcely get 
sufficient brsath to speak, yet 
when they laid her little one be- 
side her, she tonched the tiny 



' Thine own. 



babe, saying faintly, 
dear Lord. 

Her last words were thus a 
prayer that her little Wilfred 
might belong to God ; as yet it 
seemed as though her dying 
pravcr had been unheard, for 
though little Will heard plenty of 
fairy-tales, and wonderful adven- 
tures of heroes real and unreal, 
no one had ever told him the 
sweetest story of all — how Jesus 
Christ came into the world to save 
sinners. And yet he was nine 
years old, and could read quite 
well. 

You will wonder still more 
when I tell you that it was by his 
father's orders that the subject of 
religion was kept as an avoided 
one in Wilfred's presence ; Dr. 
Joyce said that he himself did not 
believe in God, and he would not 
have a lot of nonsense put into 
the boy's head. 

Miss Joyce, a kind, gentle lady, 
who prayed, in secret that the 
Lord would move her brother^ 
heart to let her teach little Will 
of the Saviour, took good care of 
the child, who was by nature 
sweet-tempered and obedient ; 
but often and often when the poor 
little fellow was in pain with the 
croup and asthma that so sadly 
afflicted him, she longed to hear 
h& little voice falter a prayer to 
the loving heart of Him who 
pities His little ones in their pain 
and trouble. 

But her brother, to all save Wil- 
fred, was a hard stern man, and 
Miss Joyce was frightened that if 
she disobeyed him, he would re- 
move her from the care of her 
dearly-beloved nephew. How 
often she thought of the times 
when the doctor and his sweet 
wife went to the house of God to- 
gether, and when morning and 
evening the doctor used to open 
the Bible, and read aloud from it, 
and then offer prayer to God. 

But since his wife's death he 
had seemed completely changed. 
Ho had loved her passionately.and 
none but himself and the Lord 
knew how hard he had prayed 
that her life might be spared. 
But God, in His wisdom and 
mercy, saw it fit to call her to him- 
self, and from that time the doc- 
tor seemed utterly turned against 
religion. 

I wonder what you would 
think of a child who turned 
against his mother, and would 
have nothing to do with her, be- 
cause she had denied him some- 
thing he was determined to have ? 
You would call such a child fool- 
ish and wicked ; ' could he not 
trust his mother's love to choose 
and decide for him ? 

But Dr. Joyce wss acting just 
in this way ; first of all he said, 
" God is cruel," and then, like the 
fool mentioned in the Bible, 
" There is no Gt>d," and then, as 
if to revenge himself against the 
Lord of Hosts, he decided to turn 
religion out of his house entirely. 




dying breath, and the Lord \i' 
whom she trusted had not Jorgtot- 
ten little Will. 

In envying the young master 
of those pretty white kittens, 
Davie had only judged from ap- 
pearances; he did not hear the 
hacking cough, he did not know 
how many months little Will had 
lain upon that couch day by day, 
and how hard the father strove to 
persuade himself and others that 
the child was not growing weaker, 
and wearing away before their 
eyes. 

He looked up gladly as his 
father came in, with the loving 
smile and dark blue eyes of his 
lost mother. 

"Papa! we've got snow-cake 
for tea, and we had chicken for 
dinner, only I couldn't eat much 
because auntie gave me such a 
biff cup of beef-tea at lunch." 

id some thought of the hungry 
face of the little tramp cross the 
doctor's mind ? If it did he dis- 
missed it with the remembrance 
of Davie's guilt as a thief. 

And have you been busy, 
papa dear ? Have you been to 
any little boys who cough as bad 
as me?" 

" Oh, what grammar !" cried his 
aunt, playfully ; then she added, 
" But you have not coughed quite 
so much to-day, darling." 

" Of course not," said Dr. Joyce, 
drawing the little golden head 
tenderly to his shoulder. " I be- 
lieve that medicine will fatten 
him up out of all knowledge,. 
This dull weather is against the 
strongest constitution ; when the 
roses come you'll be quite well, 
my boy." 

But I have never been quite 
well, you know, papa ; somehow 
I never seem to have played about 
like other boys." 

Oh, your chest has been a 
little weak," said the doctor, 
hastily, " but you will grow out 
of it ; it is nothing at all. You've 
got that wool next to the skin ?" 

"Oh yes, papa; auntie takes 
care of that ; but, papa dear, I've 
been thinking— suppose I don't 
get better, papa. Cook had a lit- 
tle nephew who had the croup, 
and he died" 

Cook is a gossiping idiot," 
said the doctor angrily ; then he 
added, touching the little frail 
hand to his lips, " There's no fear 
for you, my boy ; cook's nephew 
very likely had neither doctor 
nor nursing. I think we are able 
to insure your life for a good 
many years to come." 

"Oh, I do hope so, papa; I 
don't want to die. Fancy going 
away from yon and auntie, and 
everything nice and being put in 
the cold, dark ground." 

"The flowers don't mind the 
cold dark groand," said his aunt, 
in a trembung voice. 

" No, auntie ; but they come np 
out of it, and look beautiful ; 1 
shall have to lie there for ever 
and ever and ever — shan't 1 papa? 



But the dewr mother's praver p**. »» d»" lHght*n me so.' 
had gone . up to heaven with her| (Tb bi continued.) 







REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



BED DAVB"; 
Or, " WbaX wUt Thou htw m* to do r 
iDrom l/U AiKUy fHtud.) 
OHAPTER II. — OmluMwil. 
For answer, hia father lifted 
him gentiy on to his knee, and 
put hii atrong arms aronnd him, 
aa though to defy even the 
thooj^ht of Death to touch his 
preoiona boy ; and when the tea' 
thinga came in, Willie woke up 
from a coay nap, lively and smil 
ing ; but hia amilea could not 
baniah from hia father'a mind 
the thonght that, for the first time 
in his life the child had appealed 
to him for help in vain. Willie 
had turned to him, hoping his 
clever father would relieve him 
from the fear of lying for ever 
underground; but what could his 
father tell him, since he had de 
termined the child should never 
hear of Him who says, " Whoso* 
ever liveth and believeth in Me 
shall never die" ? 

Ghaftbb III 

** » OOB »THBB !" 

Intenae hunger often preventa 
aleep, and though Davie felt tired 
and faint, he waa still wide awake 
that evening when he crept away 
from an approaching policeman 
to rest within one oftbe recesses 
made by the seats upon the 
bridge. Away in the distance he 
saw everywhere the lighted 
windows of homea, but he — like 
the King of earth and heaven — 
"had not where to lay his head." 
It was cold and damp, curled up 
on the stone seat above the river, 
and some might even have pre 
ferred the warm, safe prison cell ; 
but to the street boy liberty waa 
next to life. He was free — free 
to look up at the golden stara, and 
wonder vaguely concerning their 
calm, sacred beauty ; free to look 
down at the flowing watera, and 
think of a boy he h»i aeen drawn 
up out of the river drowned. 

"Anywaya he ain't hungry," 
thonght Davie ; " I mind he were 
often abort of cash like me, before 
he got drownded ; wonder what'a 
come of him now !" 

The next moment he waa con- 
aoiooa of a faltering atep beaide 
him, and the atarlight showed him 
dimly the bent fig^ure of an aged 
woman, with a little baaket on 
her arm. He aaw she was poor 
and feeble, so he felt there was no 
need for him to make hia escape. 

" Why, my lad !" said a weak, 
quavering voice, " ain't this a 
blessing that we've got into this 
cosy place out of the rain ? It's 
just beginning to come down, but 
we shan't feel it much if we creep 
under that there shelter." 

•' The bobby will be by," said 
Davie. " I 'spects I can give him 
the slip, but he'll see you, and 
he'll turn you out, sure enough." 

" He's turned his light on here 
a while ago," said tne woman. 

" I don't think he'll look right 
in again, and if it rains hard, he'll 
turn into the cabmen's ahelter at 
the top ; I hope he'll let bm' alone 
luat thia one night." 



"They'll take you in at the 
Union," auggested Davie, " if you 
hain't got no tin." 

" Why ain't you there, child ?" 
ahe aaked. 

"Oh, 1 couldn't— I wants to 
feel free." 

" And ao do I, lad; I've lived 
off the pariah, and I hoped to die 
off the parish, but our Father- 
He knows better nor 1 do May- 
be I've got stuck-up of late, for 
I'm over seventy, and I've earned 
my living, and nursed my good 
man till he went to glory ; and 
what with charing and needle- 
work and washing, I never want- 
ed no parish relief ; but I've got 
the rheumatic this throe month, 
and ] couldn't do no work nor 
pav the rent, and I'm two month 
behind, ao the landlord he sold 



no appetite to eat a moraei. So 
here it it dearie, and do you eat 
every bit of it ; dear now ! where'a 
your mother, to leave you alone, 
and you such a little wee boy ?" 

" Haven't got no mother,'^ said 
Davie, snatchine at the food, " and 
I ain't little ; Iin bigger than 1 
look in the dark. But I say, 
you'll be hungry maybe to-mor- 
row, and then you'll want this." 

" No, lad ; it ain't no good keep- 
ing up my pride— the Lord 
knows better nor I do, and since 
He sends me there, I'll go there ; 
He'll come along of me I know. 
I'm a-going to apply there in the 
morning, only I just wanted one 
night more to feel free like afore 

I goes to the Workhouse I 

likes being out here better than 
being shut up there, so I «aya to 




OLD BETTY AND DAVIE ON THE BBIDOK. 



me out to-day, and told me to go.myaelf, ' Betty, yon shall say one 
to the Union. ' more prayer out of the Union, and 

" What a shame f cried Davie ' then you goes in to-morrow !' ' I'd 
" I'd like to shoot the old fellow.' . a-hoped to have died out of the 

" Te mustn't talk like thai, House, but sure and I ain't no 
child ; I ought not to have been ' call to be discontented and to 
behind with my rent, but thia poor grumble — it's nothing to what 
handgot terrible bad a while ago." the jLord went thruugh.'" 



Won't it get worse if you stay 
here ? the rain is getting in to us 
now." ■ 

It don't feel over bad to-night ; 
I feel somehow stiff and chilly, 
but I'm not in pain, thank the 
Lord !" 

Well, I'm glad you're come," 
said Davie. " I likes company, 
and I'm that hungry I can't sleep." 
" Well now, that's queer. I've 
got half a loaf as a neighbor give 
me — poor dear I ahe wanted it bad 



" Who's the Lord 1 do you mean 
the Lord Mayor ?" ^..ked Davie, 
with his mouth dangerously fuU. 

" Why, laddie ! our Lord— our 
Lord Jesus." 

" He ain't our Lord," said Davie, 
" I ain't heard nothink on Him." 

"Not heard of Jesus! why, 
there's nobody loves you like 
Jesus does, laddie." 

" Nobody loves me at all," said 
Davie, "nor I don't want them to ; 
Jarvis pretended to care a lot for 



enough herself— and I can't gel < me. and he got me in gaol 



Reckon you wouldn't sit ao cloae 
tome, if you'd a-known I'm out 
of gaol to-day." 

" I don't know about Jama," 
said Betty ; " but whether you've 
been in gaol or not, I know the 
Lord does love yon. Why, He 
used to touch the lepers — ^poor 
creaturea nobody wouldn't nave 
about them, and who had to get 
out of the way of everybody." 

"Just like me," said Davie, 
" Qneaa He wouldn't touch me 
though ; I'm horrid dirty, but I 
meana to wash in the morning." 

"You don't know my Lord 
Jesus, you don't know nothing 
of Him if you think He wouldn't 
touch you ; why. boy, we touch 
Him when we pray to him." 

"Pray— what'a that?" 

" Talking to Jesus ; He likes 
us to tell Him all we feels, and all 
we wants." 

" All we wanta ? my eye !" cried 
Davie, " I wants something more 
to eat, and a new suit, and iiit- 
tens, and lots. Where does He 
live ? Guess if I go to Him, some 
one will drive me off." 

" No, nobody can," said the old 
woman , " there ain't nobody can 
drive us off from God." 

" Gx>d ! is it Him as you means ? 
—I can't get to Him.'* 

"Tes you 'can, and He will 
hear you and help you " 

"Tell me how.'* The boy 
crept close vp to hei. his face up- 
turned to hers in the darkness 

" I can't tell you much, laddie ; 
I'm only old Betty, and don't 
know nothink. But God did 
teach us one prayer, and I knows 
that right enough. You say it 
after me — say it quick, 'cause 
something queer's come to my 
tongue, and 1 feels a bit sleepy. 
Our Father." 

"Our Father." said Davie, in 
wondering, hushed tones 

" Our Father," came again more 
feebly from old Betty, and again 
the boy spoke it after her But 
she did not speak again, only 
leant back aeainst the wall, and 
her basket rolled from her hand, 

"She's gone to sleep, sure 
enough," said Davie. " Guess I'd 
like to tell Him all I wants. But 
it don't matter about me; I'm 
used to sleeping out of doors; but 
she's too old for it ;" and then his 
face looked up to the sky where 
the dark cloud hid the stars, and 
Davie uttered his first prayer — 
Our Father, can't you nnd a 
place for old Betty to-night?" 

He dropped fast asleep by her 
side, so sound asleep that he was 
not conscious when in the gray 
dawn of morning a policeman 
flashed his lantern into the recess, 
and found a little ragged boy 
asleep on the seat, wrapped round 
in Betty's shawl. But the old 
woman slept more deeply 8till,for 
though she had been turned from 
her earthly home, One whom she 
loved had drawn nigh unto her 
in the darkness, a^ lifted her 
away to our Father's house, 
where the many mansions be " 
(7>/ be continued. I 



l\ 



m^ 



A 

«H9 






REPRINTED STORIES. PROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



"BBD DAVB"; 
Or, " What wilt Thoa h*T« m* to do f* 

Itfrom Ou ritmttp IHtnd.) 

Ohaptkb IV. 

DR. IIKiDOWS. 

" Darie, I want yon to go np to 
Snnnyside this morning, with this 
new medicine for Master Wilfred. 
HiB father haa consented to try it 
at last, bnt he ought to take U be- 
fore dinner, so make ha%i.e." 

"Tes, sir ; IVe left ail the medi- 
cine yon pnt out iu the sargery.' 

" That's a good boy ; and I finri 
yon mixed those powders as we' 1 
as I conld hare done them vof 
self. I shall make a doctor of 
you yet." 

" You'd make any thins of .my 
body," said Davie, with so.-ne 
thing like a sob in his voice ; 
" there ain't not a boy in the 
market-place would know me 
now." 

" No, you don't look much like 
the little chap I found lying 
asleep under the glare of the 
policeman's buU's-eyo." 

" He were a-going to take me 
to the work'tts, weren't he ? " 

"Tes, but I told him that I 
could get you into the Royal 
Home, so he gave you up to mn, 
but the Home was full, and I 
could not turn yon adrift, so I had 
to trust you as my errand-boy, 
and I shall trust you no longer 
unless vou hurry now to Sunny' 
Bide." 

Davie rushed off with the 
bottle ; he loved goins to Sunny 
side, for little Wilfred was quite 
a hero to him, and the strong, 
healthy boy was no less a won- 
der in the eyes of poor Wilfred. 

When Dr. Joyce's partner, Dr, 
Meadows, brought the outcast in- 
to the surgery at Mereham, and 
told how he had found him asleep 
beside a dead woman on the 
bridge. Dr. J uyce at once declared 
he was a gaol-bird, and said he 
should not be employed in that 
surgery. * 

But Dr. Meadows had taken a 
fancy to the little red-haired fel- 
low, which was not at all surpris- 
ing, since he always did take a 
fancy to anything or anybody 
helpless, and he declared he 
meant to befriend the lad. 

" Since we share the surgery," 
Baid he, " let him do his work at 
my end, and you can get another 
hd to carry out your prescrip- 
tions." 

Davie, however, had been at 
his post more than a year.and both 
partners knew him now as a 
sharp, trustworthy boy ; Doctor 
.Toyce had ceased to treat him 
slightingly, and though always 
stern, he sometimes praised his 
quickness and ability. 

But Dr. and Mrs. Meadows — 
he said it was his wife, and his 
wife said it must be the baby- 
between them had done a Ghrist- 
like work towards the little out- 
cast Who would have recog- 
nized in their smart, bright-faced 
" buttons" the little gaol-bird who 
looked to the darkened sky and 
Mid, • Our Fatheft" 



Doctor Meadows believed in 
Davie's innocence of the theit.and 
Davie knew he believed it. 'This 
was the first sonrc« of the great 
influence he possessed with the 
child; in Davie's eyes. Doctor 
Meadows was nearly perfect. He 
it was who clothed, fed, and 
housed him when the managers 
of the Boys' Home found their 
rooms so, crowded that they were 
compelled to refuse another in- 
mate ; he it was who conquered 
Davie's fear of Dr. • Joyce, and 
who taught the lad to read, write, 
and work sums for an hour every 
evening ; he it was above all who 
gave Davie a place in his Sun- 
day-school class.and bv word emd 
ezAriple led him to the Saviour 
who had shown him the evil of 
he p^st, and tjUcen all Davie's 



w 



iHa- 



and Master Willie was lo feared 
of the coffin." 

"No talk of coffins here, and 
no talk of Jesus," said the doctor, 
striking his fist on the table, and 
making Davie shake in his shoes. 
" I don't believe in Him, and 
I don't choose to have religion 
brought into my house. Yon 
must not go near my lad unless 
you promise to avoid the subject 
altogether." 

" Not talk of Jesus, sir !" cried 
Davie, blankly. 

" Not a word." 

" But, please, sir, I must ; I 
loves Him best of all." 

" See here, Davie — the bov frets 
after you— it's only a little thing I 
ask. Ai; ! ii you please me in this, 
I'll give yon half a crown." 

Now Davie had tried long to 




hit 



' AND NOW THE HTMN, DAVIB DIAR." 



poor little heart for His own for 
ever and ever. 

When the boy reached Sunny- 
side, he was told that Wilfred was 
so ill as to be in bed, and he was 
turning sadly away, when the doc- 
tor called him saying, "Willie likes 
to chat with you ; go up and have 
dinner with him ; I'll tel 
Meadows I kept yoii." 

" Oh, thank you, sir !" cried the 
boy in great delight. 

*' But mind, not one word of 
church talk ; I hear you've been 
putting all sorts of notions into 
my lad's head, about things that 
wjU frighten him to death." 

"No, indeed, sir; I wouldn't 
frighten him for all the world. I 
only told him as how Jesus 
wouldn't never let us keep in the 
coffin if we trust in Him. Doctor 
Meadows says we go to heaven ; 



purchase a pair of tiny bfne shoes 
for Dr. Meadows' baby girl, but 
was yet some distance short of the 
price ; the money therefore seem- 
ed a temptation at first, bnt only 
for a moment. 

" Please, sir, — it's no good 
promising— I couldn't help talk- 
ing about Jesus. - And Master 
Wilfred— I does love him, too — 
suppose he was to get lost, and 
me know it was for the want of 
me telling him ?" 

" You telling him ! you teach a 
gentleman's son !" 

" I know he's a gentleman, sir, 
but nobody hain't told him about 
Jesus." 

" You are an impudent fellow ; 
get out of the house." 

" Please, sir," said the frighten- 
ed voice, " I didn't go for to be 
imp'dent, please, sir." 



Away down the garden he 
went, bnt ere he reached the 

te, the doctor's voice came after 
im. " Here, you young chatter- 
box, go and keep my lad com- 
pany, while 1 see my patients, and 
don t let him push off the bed- 
clothes." 

A happy boy was Davie when 
Wilfred's little white handi lay 
in his own after dinner, and the 
child learnt from him some of.the 
texts that the doctor had taught 
him at the Sunday-school. 

Willie never talked now of get- 
ting well ; he understood better 
than any one else did that he 
would soon leave his dear home 
of Snnnyside ; but now that he 
had heard of the Friend " beyond 
all others," his little voice framed 
many a secret prayer to the Lord 
who was able to take care of him 
all along the dark valley. 

" And now the hymn, Davie 
dear," said he ; "I showed father 
the hymn-book you gave me, and 
all he said was, ' Don't sing too 
much— it wiil hurt your chest ! ' 
But what do you think 1 Mother 
had a Bible, like yours, for auntie 
has been keeping it all this time ; I 
heard her talking about it to papa, 
and he savs I may have any book 
of hers I like, so I'll have a Bible 
of my own. 

" And you c«kn read so beauti- 
ful. Master Willie! I wish I 
could read like you." 

" Oh, you can do lots more 
than I can, but I'll be strong 
whnn I go to Jesus, won't I 
Davie ? Now do sing to me once 
before you go ;" and the doctor, 
opening the door of his consult- 
ing-room,heard two boyish voices, 
one strong and clear, and the 
other, oh, now feeble ! blended in 
the low sweet hymn — 

"There Ii a freen bill far »iraj, 

Wlthont Hour wall, 
Where the dear Loitt wai omctfled, 

Who died toeavanaall. 
• ••••• 

He died that we might be fort iTaD, 

He died to make ne food. 
That w Aalgbt go at laat to beaTen, 

Bared by Hie precloui blood.'* 

Chaptsb V. 

OOINO HOME. 

It was a beautiful afternoon in 
early spring ; the river danced in 
the sunlight, the trees were bud- 
ding into sweet, fresh green, and 
tUe sky was of a deep cloudless 
blue. 

By the river-bank went Davie, 
whistling for gladness of heart; 
Kood Dr. Meadows sent him every 
day now, when his morning 
work was done, to the Board 
School at Bankside, and thouffh 
at present in a very low class, the 
master said that it he continued 
to work as well as he was doing 
at present, he should soon be 
quite proud of him as a pupil. 
The Board School was not very 
far from Snnnyside ; Willie could 
hear the boys shouting in the 
play-ground, and the voice of the 
master who drilled them He lay 
listening to the sounds of life and 
health very patiently on his bed ; 
this mild, fair weather hsMl made 
no ohange in little Willie's health. 






u 



y "62 

i* Srer 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



H»« 



iwhi 
wel 
1^ 



BTcry one — save Dr. Joyce— 
3oald eee that the darling of the 
honae was " wearing away to the 
land of the leal" ; but the dootor 
himself either could not or 
wonld not admit that Wilfred 
waa worse. He sent for an emi- 
nent physician from London, be- 
sides getting Dr. Meadows every 
day to see the boy, for, skilled 
doctor though he was, he would 
not trust his own ability alone for 
his son. Dr. Meadows had long 
since told him very gently that 
lung disease had set in hopelessly, 
and all the physician said was, 
"While there is life, there is 
hope." But Dr. Joyce called them 
a pair of croakers, and bade his 
sister keep up Willie's strength 
with jelly and beef-tea and new- 
laid eggs ; she noticed, however, 
that he hung about the boy with 
a very anxious face, and he would 
suffer none but himself to under- 
take the night-nursing of the little 
invalid. 

As the school was so near, Davie 
often called to ask «fter Willie, 
who never failed to invite him to 
stay to tea ; he liked to hear of 
the boys' classes and games, but 
oh ! how much more eagerly did 
the dying boy drink in the sound 
of the " Name to sinners dear." 

This afternoon Miss Joyce was 
watching at the garden gate for 
him. " Doctor Joyce is in Mere- 
ham," she said, speaking in an 
agitated voice ; " do find bim for 
us, Davie. He went to some pa- 
tient who has had an operation in 
the workhouse infirmary, but he 
may have gone elsewhere now, 
Run, Davie — Willie is so ill." 

The whistling stopped, and 
tears filled Davie's eyes, as he 
rushed forward as though pos' 
sessed of wings ; he loved Willie 
so dearly that he had often felt as 
though he would like to bear his 
weary pain so as to give him ease 

The infirmary was at the other 
end of Mereham, and to Davie's 
relief, the doctor's caifiage was 
standing at the door. 

" I must not frighten him," he 
thought, trying to frame his mes- 
sage gently; but just then the 
doctor came out, and seeing the 
breathless boy, his face went 
ghastly white. 

" Willie !" was all he could say ; 
and Davie nodded, for the doc- 
tor's agitation frightened him out 
of speech. 

The doctor tore a leaf from his 
pocket-book, and wrote on it. 

" Dr. Meadows is in there," said 
he ; " give this to him ; when he 
is done with the young man, he 
must come at once." 

The carriage rolled away, and 
Davie asking for Dr. Meadows 
was shown into a large ward, 
where the doctor stood beside the 
bed of a youth, whose leg was to 
have been removed, but the doc- 
tors had found to-day that there 
was^ope of saving it. 

"He ain't of much account," 
said one of the male nurses in a 
whisper to Davie, whom he knew 
well by this time : " hurt himself 



in breaking into a hoose ; he 
ought to be in the prison infirm- 
arr by rit^hta, but it waa an old 
laay'i house, and she wouldn't 
prosecute him 'cause of hia leg be- 
Ingwounded." 

Davie gave the note to Dr. 
Meadows, and turned towards the 
patient Their eyes met. Jarvis 
did not recogniie the doctor's 
page, but Davie knew him di- 
rectly. Davie had prayed for 
this ; ever since he had learnt to 
love Jesus, he had prayed for Jar- 
vis, as the one who had " despite- 
fully" used him, and he longed to 
do good to the evil associates of 
the life from which he had been 
rescued. Many a little wander- 
er had Davie brought within 
the influence of the ragged- 
school and Sunday-school, but he 



nurse ; I'd knook down ten of " Ob yes, I know her, it's Mrs. 
yom, but for this leg." I Bryant, a great friend of my mis- 

" Does it hurt yon very much, tress. I'm so glad, dear Jarvis, 



Jarvis?" 

" Why I its ' Red Dave,' I de- 
clare ; to think of seeing ' Carrots' 
in buttons; your master don't 
know as how you was in the lock- 
up, do he ?" 

" Yes, he does, Jarvis ; I'm Dr. 
Meadows' boy, and he k^ows all 
about it !" 

" Blessed if he does I you don't 
know all about it!" 

" I think I do, Jarvis ; butwon't 
you have a drink of this milk ?" 

Jarvis drank it feveririily. 
" Something queer has come over 
you, Davie ; I suppose you're too 
grand to go to the ' penny gaff' 
now r 

"Glrand, Jarvis! Fancy cali- 




DATIE AOOOSTINQ DR. JOTOS. 



had never been able to see Ben 
Jarvis, though he had even 
sought for him once in the 
" penny gaff." 

" Doctor," said he, " it's Jarvis." 

" Bh, what ? he gave his name 
as Jones." 

" Well, it is Jarvis," whispered 
Davie, " and he don't know me." 

"You can remain hero with 
him awhile if you like ; I don't 
want him to sleep just yet, for his 
wounds are to be dressed when 
Mr. Drew come° round. I must 
go up to Sunnyside ; don't you 
come there, for Willie will want 
to see you, and he ought to keep 
quiet." 

The doctor moved awav, and 
Davie sat down quietly by the bed 



ing me grand ! No ; but, Jarvis 
I never go there. I've signed a 
paper never to touch strong 
drink, and that's about all they 
does there. But I did go once — ^I 
wanted to find you out." 

" Look here,' said Jarvis, sud- 
denly, "if it will make you 
squarer with your master, you can 
tell him as how I knows you 
never took that purse. I slipped 
it into your jacket, Dave ; but I 
didn't leel like being locked up. 
They've caught me twice since 
then, though, and irthat old girl 
hadn't begged me off, I'd have 
been in prison now. Ain't she a 
brick, Dave? Blessed if she 
didn't send me some sponge cakes 
and oranges yesterday. Tho folks 



I say, young buttons ?' cried . say as how she comes and reads 
Jarvis, peevishly, " you're a nice J to them here once a week." 



and oh! so glad yon confessed 
ebout the purse. I knew you 
must have done it, and I have 
asked Jesuii to forgive yon." 

" Don't Tou feel like punching 
my head, though ?" 

"No, Jarvis; but do ask Jeans 
to forgive yon." 

"What's the sood? It ain't 
only that— I've done a sight of 
bad things ; it's only one like you 
as could forgive me." 

" But, Jarvis, Jarvis, I forgive 

Jou because I want to be like 
esus; oh, do try Him! There 
ain't nobody forgives like Jesus." 

"They learnt me about Him 
when I was a little chap,and lived 
with grandfather; but when he 
died I was turned out in the 
streets, and I've forgot everything, 
I think. Oh dear ! how this leg 
hurU " 

" Shall I ask Jesus to make it 
better, Jarvis? There ain't no- 
body minding us." 

" Tain't no use, lad; Jesus'd 
think it served me well right ; iiie 
bobbies si>i J 30 When they picked 
me up." 

" Jesus never says that," said 
Davie ; " it ain't in the Bible no- 
.where ; I believe He pities you all 
the time, and I'm a-going to tell 
Him sU about it ;" and putting his 
head down beside the pillow 
of the astonished Jarvis, Davie 
whispered — "Saviour, our Sav- 
iour, save Jarvis, and make Him 
sorry he has done wrong things, 
and take this pain away, and 
show him how "rhou dost forgive 
him, much more than I do —and I 
forgive him with all my heart — 
for Thy Name's sake. Please Jar- 
vis, say ' Amen.' " 

" Amen," said Jarvis ; but no- 
body didn't listen to you. How 
could God hear you a-whispering 
like that?" 

" 1 don't know bovr He can, 
but He does," said Davie firmly ; 
" I feels it inside my heart." 

Here the dresser came up to at- 
tend to Jarvis, who looked at 
Davieeagerly.andsaid, "Come and 
see a chap sometimes won't you ?" 

" Indeed I will, whenever mas- 
ter can spare me. And I'll tell 
mistress what ward you are in ; 
she brings the children here 
sometimes. I wish you could see 
our baby, little Miss Daisy. Good- 
bye, Jarvis ; I hope your leg will 
leave off hurting you." 

But ere he left the ward he re- 
turned, and laid silently on Jar- 
vis' bed his chief treasure — a little 
Testament that had been found 
in the basket of the old woman 
who died on the bridge, and that 
Dr. Meadows had secured for him, 
writing the names of the two out- 
casts together, first "Betty" and 
then "Davie." 

tt was very hard to part from it 
but very sweet to give up some- 
thing precious for Jesus Ohrist'i 
sake 



{To be^AntiHued.) 



f^ 



"RED DAVE"; 
Or, " What wUt Thou h«T« m« to do f* 

(From tk» Famil) f>'f«iid.) 

Chapter V. 

The two doctors stood beside lit- 
tle Willie'i bed, aa the sottiiifr sun 
sent iti iMt raya of glory into hia 
room. 

The child aeemed fast asleep ; 
his open Bible lay beaide him — 
the one that had been his 
mother*!; for he had bean readingr 
in it ere he broke the blood-vessel 
which waa the fatal sign. 

No eonnd waa in the room ; Miss 
Joyce was titterly worn out, and 
waa lying down on the sofa at the 
foot of the bed, for Dr. Meadows 
said Willie might continne ancun- 
scions ior hoars. Dr Joyce had 
dren no opinion, bat the little 
hands were clasped tightly with- 
in his own. 

At last there was a movement, 
and the father pressed a morsel of 
refreshing ice between Willie'a 
lips. 

He opened his eyes. " Father I" 
said he, " I can t see — is it 
night?" 

A sob barst from the strong 
man's lips. 

"Don't cry, papa," and the 
little hands felt for his face, " I'm 
so safe — Davie told me aboat 
Jesns— I'm so glad Jesus has got 
me tight." 

'■ Don't talk, darling," said Dr. 
Meadows; "it will make you 
congh." 

"J won't talk maoh; I want 
papa Kiss me, papa — kiss me 
good-night" 

"Try to sleep again, Willie," 
said his aant. 

" Yes, anntie, when I've said 
my hymn." And then the little 
fellow tamed his face towards 
the window, thongh he could see 
the sunset sky no longer, and said 
his evening hymn — • 

Jmoi. Mnd«r SIMphnd. brar in«, 
BI«M Thy mu* lamb to-nt(bt | 
^Tbroagb tht darkooM be Tboa noar ma, 
Keep ma lafa till morninf light." 

* « . * * 

When Dr. Meadows left the 
house, his partner had locked 
himself into that room alone, and 
Miss J jyce was in the deep sleep 
of sorrow. 

Davie waa standing at the gate, 
watching eagerly for news of 
Villie. 

" I didn't let him hear my voice, 
sir, I've been waiting outside all 
the time; ia Master Willie any 
better sir?" 

And the doctor said gently, 
"Yes, Davie; Jesus has taken 
away t^l his pain." 

CHAPTER Vt 

" FATHSB !" 

Sterner and harder than ever 
teemed Dr. Joyce during the few 
days that a little flower-strewn 
coffin lay atSannyside ; he scarce- 
ly spoke to ttaj one ; but his 
partner waa moat anxious about 
him, for he scarcely ate or slept, 
and Dr, Meadows knew that an- 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER.' 



leia he gave way to his grief hia 
life waa in danger. 

He did not attend the f\ineral 
service — a critical case at some 
distance demanded bis attendance. 
The good clergyman, however, 
souffht him that evening, where 
he knew he would surely find 
him, and pressed his hand in 
silent sympathy. 

Dr. Joyce pointed tn the new- 
made grave. 

" For ten years, sir," said he " I 
have planned and schemed and 
saved for the future of my only 
child ; and this is the end." 

''Nay," said the clergyman, 
earnestly, " but rather the begin- 
ning, "the strongest man living 
has powers less wonderful, the 
happiest heart on earth ia leaa 
happy than little Willie now. 
For when we see our Lord, we 
shall be like Him, as He is." 

Dr. Joyce made no reply ; he 



when the boy eould no longer 
visit him, because of Hying at 
Snnnyside, he became very de- 
spondent, and declared he was 
?roing to die, and should be lost 
or ever. 

In this state of mind he con- 
tinued a longtime ; nothing seem- 
ed to give him hope, till one day 
the good Christian lady, who re- 
venged his burglary by visiting 
his sick-bed, knelt down in the 
ward, and besought the Lord to 
have mercy upon that poor dark 
soul, and, when she arose, Jarvis 
said, " He loves me, me — ain't it 
wonderful ?" 

His kind friends did not lose 
sight of him again ; the doctor got 
him to attend a night-school, and 
at last succeeded in getting him 
to.sign the pledge ; and now, in 
all the shoeblack regiment, it 
I would be difficult to find one 
more civil, honest, and obliging 



turned slowly away and went up than Ben Jarvis; for he is "on 
to his room where one little bed ' the Lord's side," and the Lord 
stood emi*ty beside his own. | has strengthened him to resist 

The next day he lay helpless temptation in whatever form it 
with brain fever, and for a time ' may come to him. 
hunv between life and death ; his | One day when Dr. Joyce was 
kind sister nursed him ceaseless- getting better he called Davie to 
ly, and even when he regained his side, and said, " Davie, I hear 
his senses, he waa weak as a little I you want to become a doctor." 
child, and needed constant attend- " Yes, sir, please, sir ! and I'm 
ance. They were discussing one' a-learninir how to make some 
day the plan of getting an attend- 'sort of pills." 
ant to help Miss Joyce, when the j " But it will want plenty of 
doctor beckoned his partner to money to make yon a clever doc- 



tor.' 

Will it, sir ?" and Davie's face 

grew clouded ; "then I can't get 

I'd have liked to 



him, saying, " Lxt Davie look af- 
ter me." 

So Davie came to the sick-room; 
and trod softly and carefully, and ' to be one, sir ; 
ministered to the doctor's comfort make folks' pains better, but it 
as tenderly as his kind little heart i don't matter. Perhaps I'll drive 
proRipted him ; though when he a tram." 

saw Willie's bed his chest heaved " But, Davie, do you know I 
and he could not speak, which owe you something ? I don't 
Dr. Joyce noticed though he said meat, for attending to me now, or 



nothing, 

By this time Davie could spell 
out a text here and there, and of- 
ten, when the doctor seemed 
asleep, he conned over his Sun- 
day lesson, word by word, till it 
sank into his memory, and into 
the heart, too, of the listening 
man. 

And one day, when the patient 
had been left alone.and Davie was 
bringing in some chicken broth 
as quietly as a mouse, the boy's 
heart gave a bound of joy — for he 
and Willie had prayed for this— 
the Bible, hers and his, was open 
in the doctor's hands, and Davie 
heard him murmur in a broken, 
faltering voice — 

" Black, I to the fonntaln fly ; 
Watb me. Saviour, or I die." 

Meanwhile, Jarvis was steadily 
making progress towards recov- 
ery. Dr. Meadows promised, if 
he tried to live honestly, to set 
him up in a good station as shoe- 
black, for his leg would never be 
quite well, so he could do no 
active work. 

Jarvis was so full of jokes that 
nobody could find out whether 
he really meant to do better or 
not; but every one could see that 
ho was really fond of Davie, and 



for you' work for my child— God 
bless you for all you did for him 
— but I hear you were put in 
prison unjustly, and I must try to 
make that up to you." 

You do know I'm not a thief 
now, sir?" said Davie, flushing 
red. 

" Yes, my boy ; poor little fel- 
low ! I suppose Dr. Meadows 
has not told you what I want to 
do for you?" 

" Yes, sir," said Davie simply ; 
" he told me you was a-goinr to 
get me my next pair of boots. 

" Not your nexi only, but many 
more pairs, I hope. Since he did 
not tell yon, listen tp me. I am 
very lonely, Davie, and there is 
none to succeed me in ray name or 
in my profession. Will you come 
to me as Davie Joyce, and bo my 
son ? I will do all for you that 'I 
hoped to have done for my angel 
boy." 

l)avie opened his eyes, turning 
redder still. 

" I— I can't leave Doctor 
Meadows," said he; "I likes my 
room over the stable, and that'ere 
baby will bo wanting me back 
ag{un now." 

"You are frightened I shall 
keep you by force, I see," said the 
doctor, with a sad smile ; " but. 




hard aa I seem, I will 
you against your own will. Re- 
member, thouqh, that instead oi 
service you would get a first- 
class educaiion, and instead of 
bread and cheese, plenty of good 
food, and your room over the 
stable would be changed for 
Sunnyside. I have learnt to love 
you, lad, and I know this is what 
my Willie would have liked. 

" I\l likn to please him," said 
Davie, hesitating ; " but I does 
love Dr. Meadows ; please mayn't 
I talk to him about it?" 

Dr. Joyce nodded. " You may 
go now," said he ; " and you may 
take a week to decide." 

But Davie did not need a week 
to make up his mind. Dr. 
Meadows saw that money and 
comfort could not tempt Davie 
away from his service ; but he ap- 
pealed, and not in vain, to the 
boy's sense of self-sacrifice. 

" I have a wife and children," 
said he ; " Miss Joyce is going to 
live with her sister, and Dr. Joyce 
has nobody to love him, and take 
care of him. It makes me very 
sad sometimes to see that lonely, 
broken-hearted look in his eyes ; 
I think this may be the call of 
Jesus to you, to bless and bright- 
en that desolate life." 

Davie had not thought of it in 
this manner before, and his eyes 
grew very radiant with a light 
caught from above. 

"For Jesus' sake." This 
thought entirely altered the case ; 
for a few minutes ihe little fellow 
knelt down in his garret above 
the stable, and asked that the 
Lord would lead him aright, and 
then he went to say " good-bye" 
to the baby. 

' But I shall see you many a 
time," said he ; " so don't fret af- 
ter Davie ;" which did not seem 
at all likely to be the case, since 
Miss Daisy was quietly intent on 
the contemplation of her wee 
pink toes, which had just been 
bared ior Slnmberland. 

In the calm of the evening, 
Davie again left Mereham for 
Sunnyside ; the moon gMted 
quietly out from betweerffithe 
clouds, and as he looked up to%e 
silver light, he thought of little 
Willie safe at home in the pain- 
less land. 

The gas was not burning in 
Dr. Joyce's room ; he lay in the 
dark, wondering whether Davie 
would return to him at the end 
of the week or no, and thinking, 
too, of his dear ones whom God 
had called above. 

Just then, when the tears rose 
to his eyes, and his heart grew sad 
and heavy, a boy's step sounded 
up the stairs, a boy's hand touch- 
ed his own, and a loving voice 
said earnestly, " I've come to 
stay with you, father !" 

THE END 



" The daily use of beer shortens 
lifetromten to fifteen years." — Dr. 
Daoii. 



^^m 



64 



REPRINTED STOKLES. FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



FRBDDIB WRAT^ 
DBNT. 



ACOI- 



\; 

Poor Freddie Wrty had no 
father or mother to care for him, 
and wonld have felt very dall and 
miaerable in hit little bed if ^aok 
had not given up his play to sit bv 
his side and read to him. JaoK 
waa not his brother; he was an 
orphan like himself, bat ever 
■inca Vred-then a little half- 
■tarT'.d fellow with tattered 
olothea and bare feet, used to 
sleeping under arohwaya and 
gattlnff money to buy food in all 
sorts oftuoertain ways— had been 
brought to the Children's Home, 
Jack had helped and stood . 
by him. 

In the middle of the 
reading Mr. Hilton, the 
superintendaut of the 
Home, oamo into the 
room. 

"Freddie," he said, "I 
wtrit you to tell me again, 
as simply and plainly as yon 
can, how it all nappened. ' 

" I was going that errand 
to Captain Harper's," Fred 
answered, " and I caught 
sif ht of Jim, on the other 
side of the road, and I was so 
afraid he'd get away before 
I could catch him, I ran 
across directly. 

Jim waa the one friend 
Freddie had had all his life 
before he came to the Home, 
and he had cried for him 
many a time, thoueh Jim 
wa( a big, rough lad, in 
whom no one else ever found 
any good. 

"There wasn't a cart or 
anything near, sir ; it must 
have come round the 
corner of Granville Street, 
and it came tremendously 
fast, and I inat knew it was 
coming and couldn't get out 
of the wav, and there seemed 
to be such a row all round, 
and 1 saw the horse's hoofs, 
looking more like elephants'; 
th|M something gave me a 
gir^ailcnock, and there I waa, 
aaddidn'tknow no more till I 
was here; I think he might 
haveseen me, the man in the 
cart, if he'd looked out ; I do, 
reallr, air." 

" »> some other people say 
who saw it happen, Fred, 
but the man had too much to 
drink and didn't know what he 
was doing. He will be brought 
up at the police court to-morrow 
morning, and be punished, and 
perhaps lose his situation alao. 
He ia very sorry now, especially to 
have hurt you, because he has a 
little boy at home just your age, 
and it might have been that little 
boy instead of you." 

"Jack," said Fred, when Mr. 
Hilton had gone, "Don't you think 
it would have been fairer if it had 
been hia own little boy instead of 
me? He'd have been sorrier then." 
" Perhaps his boy wouldn't 
have been so comfortable as yon 

hM 



are here," Jack suggested. "Ho I time if it's to do any good, but I 



wouldn't havp had Mr. Hilton (o 
go and see him." 

But don't you think," began 
Freddie again, speaking much 
more slowly this time, "it's very 
hard, Jack 7 1 wanted to see Jim 
so much, you can't guesa how 
much. People say he's bad, but 
he's not really, and if I Qould see 
him and talk to him, and tell him 
how Uiuoh nicer it was to learn 
things, and try to be good and all 
that, I know he'd soon be very 

food. Ho waa always good to me, 
aok, and " 

Freddie was so near crying, he 
had to leave otf talking, 



can't think why (iod didn't let 
me apeak to Jim.' 

" I suppose if yon knew whv, 
that wouldn't be trusting," said 
Jack. " Perhaps you naven't 
trusted enough; perhaps you've 
been— what does that text say 7 — 
leaning unto your own under- 
standing." 

"I don't know what that 
means," Fred answered. 

•■ Well, I shouldn't wonder if 
it moans thinking you knew best 
how to talk to Jim, when Ood 
had some better way." 

There waa a little silenoe, Then 
Jack went on with the reading. 




JACK READING 



" I expect it will all come nght, " 
Jack said, soothingly. "You'll 
see Jim some other time. There 's 
that text I was reading when Mr. 
Hilton came in tells you not to 
fret—' Trust in the Lord with all 
thine heart.' You ask God to look 
after Jim and trust him to do it. 
Perhaps your accident is going to 
make the man that ran over you 
leave off drinking " 

"But Fve been asking for so 
long, and nothing has happened. 
I knew just exactly what to say, 



FBBDDIB WBAT. 



It was a long time before Fred 
heard of Jim again, and his trust 
was a good deal tried, but he kept 
that text Jack had read to him, 
not only in his memory but in his 
heart. 

One day, however, avoungman 
came to the Home and asked for 
Freddie Wray, and after a long 
stare, Fred found that the neat, 
smiling lad who shook his hand 
so warmly was actually Jim. 

"Rather a difference. Fred, 
my boy, isn't there?" he said, da* 



and he wouldn't mind anybody lighted to see Fred's amaiemeni 
so much as me. I wouldn't have I've got a place at Dr. Rot>erts,' to 
minded being run over another look after hia horaea, and perhapa 



V\\ be Ml ooaohmaB ieiB* day; 
but if I am you'll never find me, 
please God, taking too much drink 
and running over anybody." 

" Why, Jim what do you mean 7 
Did you know?" cried Fred. 

" Iknow vou were nearly killed 
for me. I'd seen yon, my lad, b«- 
fore you oroaaed, but I'd have 
dodged you rather than hava 
apoke. I waa kind of mad with 
▼on for staying in this place and 
leaving mei, and I said Pd never 
forgive Ton till tou ran away from 
them all. Ana I thought, too, 
you'd be proud and lord it ovai a 
lellow like me, when yon had inoh 
swell elothaa on." * 
"Oh, Jim!" 

"Wait a bit. When that 
cart knocked you down, I 
turned round and waa mad 
with the chap that drove it, 
and I hoped he'd losa hia 
place and get into priaon for 
ever so long. • I went and 
hung about the court to find 
out what was done to him, 
and when I saw him come 
out fVee, I waa fit to knock 
him down. I went up and 
asked him how he'd manased 
it, and he waa thinking or it 
all so that he nsver noticed 
my way of aaking. Well, 
he said it waa all along of 
you ; you'd sent a gentleman 
to speak up for him, to say 
you had crossed the street in 
a great hurry because there 
waa a friend you wanted 
very mnoh to see, that you 
were glad it wasn't his little 
boy, and hoped because of 
him that he wouldn't lose his 
place. " So," he aaid, ■ my 
master agreed to pay the 
fine, and take me place if I'd 
sign the pledge, and I'm 
going atraight away to sign 
now, so as it shan t be my 
boy next time.' Well, that 
came over me ao, I didn't 
ki\ow what to think I be- 
gan to aae all at once that it 
wasn't the clothes only was 
different about us. And I 
kept on talking to the man, 
and thinking, and thinking, 
and — there, the long and 
short of it is I made up my 
mind there and then, that 
next time you saw me there 
shouldn 'tbo such a difference; 
I'djuat try the experiment 
I went on with this chap and 
sionad with him— they must 
have thought me a queer Sort of 
fellow to put my hand to it, it 
took me such a time to write— and 
he did all he could for me juat be- 
cauae it was me you'd been want- 
ing to see. So I went baok with 
him to his maater, half aa a joke, 
and asked if he wanted another 
hand in hia stable^ t can't think 
what made him give me a job, 
but he did, and tiler a bit took 
me on regular; and the other 
fellow stood by me, and took me 
to see his missus and the boy that 
waa your age, and then they got 
me to church with them. And I 
needn't go on any mora now. Ton 



!! 



1 



U4»\ 



r 



RKI'RINTKI) STORIKS. PROM TIIK •' NORTIIKRN MKSSKNOKR 



•in't Mhunsd to Ulk to me 
tboagh, are yoa, Freddie? I'm 
not quite the unie Jim I wm. 

"And JMk was right," aaid 
Fred. 
" Why, what did Jack aay ?" 
" He read me what the Bible 
aays— ■ Trust in the Lord with all 
thine heart; and lean not unto 
thine own understanding.'" — 
Hand of Hope Review. 




BOY INVBNT0E8. 

The invention of the valve 
motion to the steam engine was 
made by a mere boy. Newoome's 
ungine was in a very incomplete 
condition, from the fact that there 
was no way to open or close the 
valves, except bv means of levers 
operated by the hand. He set up 
a large ennne at one of the mines, 
and a boy^nmphrey. Potter, was 
hired to work these valve-leaders ; 
although this was not hard work, 
yet it required his constant at- 
tention. As he was working the 
levers, he saw that parts of the 
ongine moved in the right direo- 
tion, and at the same time he had 
to open or close the valves. He 
procured a strong cord, and made 
one end fast to the proper part of 
the engine, and the other to the 
valve-lever; and the boy then 
had the satisfaction of seeing the 
engine move with perfect 
regularity of motion. .A short 
time after the foreman came 
round, and saw the boy playing 
marbles at the door. Looking at 
the engine, he saw the ingenuity 
of the boy, and also the advantage 
of so great an invention. The 
idea suggested by the boy's in- 
ventive genius was put in 
practical form and made the steam 
engine an automatic working 
machine. 

The power loom is the invention 
of a farmer's boy who had never 
seen or heard of such a thin^. 
He whittled out one with hu 
pocket-knife, and after he had got 
it all done he, with great 
enthusiasm, showed it to his 
lather, who at once kicked it to 
pieces, saying he would have no 
boy about him who would spend 
his time on such foolish things. 
The boy was sent to a black- 
smith to learn a trade, and his 
master tookalively interest in him. 
He made a loom of what was left of 
the one his father had broken up, 
and showed it to his master. The 
blacksmith saw that he had no 
common boy as an apprentice, and 
that the invention was a valuable 
one. He had a loom constructed 
under the supervision of the boy. 
It worked to their perfect satis- 
faction, and the blacksmith 
furnished the means to manu- 
facture the looms, and the boy 
received half the profits. In about 
a year the blacksmith wrote to 
the boy's father that he should 
bring with him a wealthy gentle- 
man who was the inventor of the 
celebrated power-loom. Ton may 
be able to iudge of the aatoniah- 
ment of the old man when hia 



son Was 'presented to him as the 
inventor, who told him that the 
loom was the same as the model 
that hi) had kicked to pieces but 
a year ago. — Selected. 



JESSIR'8 OOOD DAY 

UY MKH. M'OUNAUOUY, 

"I don't think it has been a 
'good day' at all, Jessie Umury," 
said Cousin Pansy. " The sun- 
shine has molted the snow, so we 
can have no fun on our sleds, and 
the streets are so bad mamma will 
not let us go out. The snow is so 
deep it will be wet and muddy 
for a week, most likely ; and here 
we are all shut up in the house. 
I think it is just miserable." 




<D 



■Cl> 




put stamp* on »*o\\, as papa told 
me I might draw on his desk for all 
the postage I needed for such a 
good worlc." 

" I saw you fussing with those 
old papers au'l I was most sorry 
I let you lease away two of my 
nice magazines to put with 
thom." 

" Oh, you wouldn't be. Pansy, 
if you could see the poor little 
fellow they went to. Ho has not 
walked for seven years, and ic 
always in pain ; sometimes very 
great. H^ is ten years old, and 
can read. The magazines will be 
such a feast to him. Now, I know 
you are glad I sent them." 

" You must have had a dozen of 
those packages, Jessie. It would 
take a lot of money." 



■it t^^apid \\Vc ft^toiiu. 
and uncflmwttx\u\tan. 



ISnM^tviHVm an. tow* 

1^ VSlvAdA n se uvt\u\ 
\u Voo\;\tv5 a\)ouV.. 

\ 

ni mviit ^uvt. •v(ii\V\«ul- \aA 
I OlVtVv o\\tT mi 0^ 'nxw. 
ft \»vv aW CuyAu "^fcVY . 



Untiv glvi Vim "iouT ^ti\ 
. Q.tt) ucu. Tvavt oi-wntVt ipil 
|l^« Can icuaWUViVtoS 
1)1 ^t\\\\\t.ovVxl. 



DRAWINO LESSON FOR VERY LITTLE FOLKS. 

Pansy had not been a bit of a | " No ; I only had nine. T did 

heart 's-ease" to anybody that ! wish I had a dozen. But then, it 
day . : makes me happy to think of giving 

The day has not been long so much pleasure to nine people, 
enough for me," said Jessie, for all of these are people who 
brightly, as she threaded a needle have but few papers. Likely the 
CO take a few more swift stitches '. whole family will read them, 
before the light quite faded. |Now I think. Pansy, it was a very 

" I can't see what you have I good morning's work." 
done so pleasant." ' " What did you do with the 

" In the first place, I assorted a others ? I saw you put on your 
pile of papers papa gave me to do ! rubbers, and run out somewhere 
with just as I pleased. I laid with as big a parcel as a news- 



aside those I wished to send away, 
in n pile by themselves, and then 
cut wrappers for them and sealed 
them up. I directed all the 
parcels, and weighed each on 
papa's poatage smIm. Then I 



boy." 

" Those left over ones I assorted 
again, and took a largo bundle 
across to Becky Maurice. She 
always wants a large paper to 
out a pattern for somebody. She 



is so obliging ; and she likes to 
keep her shelves as tidy aa a pin. 
She puts on clean papers twice a 
week if she can gel them. You 
should have seen how pleased she 
was with that bundle. She will 
read them all first, she says." 

" Well, I must say it has been 
'paper day' with you What 
were you doing so Ions up stairs 
when I wished yon to play a game 
with me V" 

"Just fixing up the closet for 
mother, putting new papers on the 
shelves, and arranging boxes. 
Miss Becky's fine order made me 
fuel a little ashamed." 

" Well, I think you have had a 
happy day of it, just mousing 
about among old rubbish the 
whole time. Reading this story 
hook in this easy chair has been 
too much for me. Most of the 
time I looked out of the window 
at the miserable streets, and the 
miserable people wading through 
thom." 

" You may not believe it. Pansy, 
but the very surest way of being 
happy yourself is to do something 
for some one else. It makes yon 
happy at the time, and when you 
think of it afterward. Now.ifyou 
really think it over, I believe you 
feel better pleased about those 
two magazines than about any 
thing else you have done to-day. 
Just try my way to-morrow, and 
see if it does not work well." 

" I don't sepwhat I could do." 

" Only make your mind up in 
earnest and you will find ways 
enough. The trouble will 
more likely bo you'll not know 
which to do first. It often 
puzzles me." 

It was likely that Jessie saw 
more than Pansy about s^me 
things, because she had learned to 
see. There is a great difierence 
in people about this, yet any child 
with aheart for the work can begin 
right away the blessedness of 
doing good to otherB.— Exchange. 

WHICH IS WORSE. 
Ill-natured deeds are very rare 
when compared with ill-natured 

words It would be a 

shrewdly good bargain for the 
world to agree that ill-natured 
deeds should be multiplied by ten, 
if only the ill-natured words were 
to be diminished by one half ; for 
though the deed may be a much 
larger and more potent thing 
than the word, it often does not 
give nearly as much pain. Depend- 
ents could gain very much by this 
bargain, for they seldom suffer 
much from deeds, but a great deal 
from wordi Many fi, man goes 
through life scattering ill-natured 
remarks in all directions, who has 
never to his knowledge done an 
ill-natureddeed, ajid also probably 
considers himself a very good- 
natured fellow ; but one, however, 
who takes a knowing view of all 
human beings, and of all hnmCi 
affairs, and is not to be imposed 
upon, as he takes care to say, by 
anything or anybody. — Author of 
" Friends in Council. 




a 



' ' f\\St 



UEPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN ME8SENQER." 



ONE BITE OF A CHERRY. 

" Uptn your noutli tml t^ut jruur tjri^ 
Ami 1 II i!>v> y'>u •uuirtlilng tn mak* yuu 
wU»." 

Sttiil Tommy Ureeii to hi* little 
filter Bva. Eva was Nitliiig on 
her grandma*! knee. Shu had 
Icen very aick but waa now get- 
ting qnite well and brother Tom- 
inv waa. very good to ht*r. He 
seldom oamu npme from work 
without bringing her lome- 
thing. One day it would be a 
bunch of wild flowora that grew 
on the wayiide, the 
next a line bunch of 
awoeldinelling graaaea 
or porhapa a branch of 
" palm." He had not 
much lo bring her, poor 
boy, but hu did all ho 
could, and every day 
before he came home 
Hhe would ask, " VThat 
timu ia it, grandmam- 
ma?" 

Now oiii« day Tommy 
planned a great aur- 
prido for her Every- 
day he used tu pass a 
great orchard on his 
way to work, and saw 
in it one tree full of 
fine cherries. He said 
to himselij " When 
these cherries are ripe, 
I will get some for 
sister." But ho was a 
very poor boy and he 
had no money to buy 
them, and they soon 
began to look so nice 
that he thought they 
must cost a great deal 
Every day as he passed 
the tree they grew red- 
der and redder, and 
riper and iiper, but he 
had no more money to 
buy them than before. 
At lost one day he 
heard the gardener say 
to the owner, " We 
must pick these cher- 
ries this afternoon." 
TiiiN frightened Tom- 
my, and all the day at 
his work he thought of 
how he might get some 
lor his sister. " Steal 
them !" That never 
entered his mind, Tom- 
was always a very good 
boy. At last he made 
up his mind. At noon 
he went to the garden- 
er and asked him if he 
could not du Homething 
to earn the cherries he 
wanted for his sister. 
The gardener looked at him and 
said, " You are the boy who pusses 
here every day, are you not? and 
you never touch the fruit. I tell 
you what I'll do with you. Come 
and help us pick fruit all the spare 
time you can and we will Ity to 
«pare you some for your sister." 

Tom went back to his work 
whistling, and that night was late 
HI getting home. His sister had 
fttked hei grandmamma where 
Torn was. nearly a hundred times 
liL'toie sho h-ard liiin runiiiui? as 



hard as he could. U<'loro he got 
to the door he stopped and then 
walked quietly, a smilo all over 
hia face. 
Alter his kiss, he snul, "Nov*, 

0|ten ruur inoutlt and thiil your t^yiMi, 
Aiiil I II kIvi* you •omt'thliig Ici tuakv ynn 

She knew something good was 
coming, and laughed and clapped 
her handa and opened her mouth 
and kept her eyes open too. But 
that would not suit Tommy, but 
she would keep her little eyes 



MAY-HAVBM AND MUST- 
HAVES 

The things wo decide that we 
must have, in distinction from 
those which we feel we may have 
if we can, are very significant. 
Eliza must hnveanewdresa. The 
new dross must be of silk, thick 
and shining; and it will make 
necessary an elegant wrap, a 
tasteful bonnet, dainty laces, and 
fresh aa well as costly gloves and 
shoos. If our young lady ia to be 




th« familiar haunts of their youth 
and the little churchyard where 
their precious Urst-born waa bur- 
ied. Such a trip would smooth 
out some of mother's wrinkles, and 
impart a new elasticity to father's 
dragging step, but it would be 
wild extravagance to suggest anoh 
a thing to the dear unseltiah pair. 
Eliza's outfit would put a 
tMrclopiedia on the bookahelvea. 
That would wonderfully as- 
sist the boys in their studies, 
and amaiingly broaden the 
horizon of the whole 
family. It would as* 
sist conversation by 
adding to the general 
fund of information, 
and would help the 
young folks to read the 
newspapers for more 
intelligently. But to 
spend so qp^h money 
at once, for such a pur> 
pose, sends at the bar^ 
mention a thrill of ter- 
ror to the maternal 
heart. We may have » 
cyclopaedia by-aud-by. 
We must array our 
daughter fashionably 
to-day. Eliza's oullH 
would support a Bible- 
reader for a whole year 
in India ; hut, dear me, 
what could one Bible- 
reader more do to stem 
the tide of heathenism? 
Besides, who ever heard 
of one family of mode- 
rate means, setting up 
a whi)le missionary, all 
by ilu-niselvos! The 
notion ih Quixotic and 
ridiculous. Away with 
it ! O, the good things, 
the beautiful things 
that may be thought of 
among our may-haves. 
And alas, blind bats 
that we are, we let 
them all go, and choose 
for mnst-huves a new 
''k dress for Eliza, 
..'le in the latest style 
— Chrittiuii Intelligen- 



w 






UOLL'S WORK. 

A lady missionary 
writes from India: — 
" I cannot be too 
thankful for the lolls. 
They excited i. reat 
deal of admiration, es- 
pecially among the 
Shindh women and 
girls. At their request 
open until grandma at last put i dressed with attention to style, ' I had a ' show day,' whenrum- 
her hand over them and Tommy | wo cannot neglect any detail of|bers came to see the wi i(I,.rful 
put a rich, red, ripe cherry into, her toilet. In fact the things |' white woman'. Among them 
her wide-open mouth. what a which it is decided she must have ^ was an old blind woman who at 
time they had then. After that [come in a short time to an tends my Bible class. She fondled 
there was no trouble in keeping amount which would do a great, the dolls so tenderly, and said 
her eyes shut aa she took one ' many other good aiifl delightful; what a comfort one would be to 
after another, and then the garden- things, if a different idea of econo- her lonely life, that I felt sure you 
er's boy came in with a nice my prevailed. Eliza's outfit; would have given her one, sol 
basketful for Tommy and grand- would enable father and mother, chose a small one with (aa she 
ma too, and that evening they if they would but think they ^ called it) real hair, and gave it to 
had a great time I can tell you, could thus employ the money, to her. It has been the meana of 
all because Tommy so loved his take a trip to the country and see , bringing three new women to my ( \ 
sister. the old homestead, the old friends, i Bible-class.— 0o«p«; in all I^ndt. j * 

#Hy 



=^lr 



cnANOIVO RABIES 

BT BTDNKV DAVRK 

Un • bright, 
w*rm day, Ru- 
• y lar-riva hi>r 
Im-lijr broth-rr 
•lilt toth»gr«>«l 
liirin-y»rd. It 
w m • vcr-y 
|ilf*-MntpUci>. 
A Inrge barn 
i>l(>o«l at one 
HJd« of it, and 
iioxr thii waa ii 
|i»ul-try-honac 
The ohiok>pu», 
il It e k • and 
gi'fM na«d to 
i-oine ont of it 
to atray a-bont 
the large graa- 
ly lot. And iu 
one oor-ner waa anif^i- ulrar pond, 

Sn-ay knew ahe nhonld find 
ma-ny prot-ty thinKn out here, and 
that Ba-by would like to see them 
too. She walked a-round till the 
iit-tle pet got aleep-y, and laid hia 
head on her ahonl-der. Then ihe 
car-ried him to a long, low shed, 
where the aheep and cat-tin were 
fed in Winter. There waa some 
hay in a man-ger ; ahe laid him on 
it, and, tit-ting bc-iid« him, sang 
■oft-ly. Thia ia what ahe anng: 



KKPiyNTUU 8 T0RIE8, FROM THE ^'JIORTHERN MKSSKNOER/; ^ 




" What will you give, 

Wliat will rou give, 

For mj liutle ba-by Mr f 

Nothing il bright u hia buii-ajr bluu tyn, 

Or suft M hia curl-ing hair. 

;■ What wiU you bring. 
What will yiiii brine, 
Tu trade for my trwu^-iire her* I 
No on* can ibow me a thing m nwrut, 
A-nt 'Wh«l^ br or near," 

"Moo, moo-oo !" aaid sonie-lhing 
not far from Sn-ay. " You think 
that'a ao, do rou ?" and Mad-am 
Jer-aey Cow looked ver-y douht- 
lul-ly at Ba-by. Said ahe : " Can 
he kick nn hia heels, and Irol-io 
all o-var the yard ?" 

"Why, no," aaid Su-sy; "He 
can't walk yet." 

" Ah ; how old is he ?" — "Near- 
ly a year old," aaid Sn-ay. 

" Near-ly a year ! My child 
walked be-fore ahe wae two days 
old !" The cow gave a scorn-ful 
sniff, and walked off with-out 
an-oth-er look. 

" Baa-aa," aaid an old aheep, 
walk-iutr up with a snow-white, 
down-y lamb. " Let me aeo. He 
is a nice Iit-tle thing, aure e-nough. 
Dnt haa he only two legs?" — 
" That'a all." aaid Su-sy. 

" Then mine is worth twice as 
much of course. If you had two 
babies, now, we might make a 
bar-gain. But he seems to hare 
no wool r 

" No, ma'am,'' said Su-sy, " but 
see what pret-ty cnr-ly hair he 
has."— "I don't think I would 
wish to trade, thank you," and 
she an<| her lamb trot-ted a-way 
and went to eat grass. 

" Quack ! quack ! quack I Let 
me taka a look," and Mrs. Dock 
flew up on the edge of the man* 
ger. 

" Hia feet don't look aa if he'd 
1 1 make « good awim-mar," ah« aaid. 



, looking at Ita-by's pink dim-plaU 
'toea. 

" Uh, h)> eau't swim at all, ' said 
Sn-ay. 

"Good-bye," aaid Mrs. Duck. 
" All my dar-lings can awim." 

'(■hip! chip! chip!" was the 
I neit sound Su-sy heard. From 
its nest in an old elm tree which 
atood near, a rob-in llew down, 
and perched on Ihe end of a pitch- 
fork. She turned her head from 
side to side, gai-iug at Ba-by in a 
ver-y wise way. " What can he 
singY" said she. 

" Oh, he can't slug at all yet, ' 
aaid Su-sy ; " he's too Iit-tle." 

" Too Iit-tle !" ezolaimad Mrs. 
Red-breaat. "Why, he'a tre-men- 
dona ! Can't he sing, ■ Fee—fee 
- lil-ly— Hl-ly— weet— weet ?' " 

" No, no," aaid Su-ay. 

" All mr chil-dren aang well at 
four montna. Haa he iTttle red 
feath-era on hia breast ?" 

"No," aaid Su-sy. 

" I shouldn't like to hurt your 
foel-ings, but you see how much 
I shoiud lose on an ez-change, 
and I m sure you would not wish 
that." 

" No, I ahonldn't," aaid Sn-ay. 
And Mrs. R. R«d-breaal flew a- 

"Cluck! cluck! duck !" "Peep! 
peep !" Mra. White Leg-horn Hen 
came a-long with her down-y 
chicks. No won-der she fussed 
and fumed and cack-led at audi a 
rate, Su-sy thought, with twelve 
ba-bies to look af-ter I 

" 1 haven't much time to look," 
said the hen, "and I should hard- 
ly be will-ing to trade. Can your 
ba-by say 'peep — peep' when he'a 
hungry Y" 

" When he'a hungry he cries — 
but not 'peep — peep,' " said Su-sy. 

" I see his legs are not yel-low, 
ei-thor, so I'll bid yon a ver-y 
good af-ter-noon." OR ahe went, 
ruf-fling her feath-ers, and cluck- 
ing and scratch-ing till i>ln-8y 
laughed a-loud. 

"1 don't won-der you laugh," 
purred aome-thing near her. Su- 
ay turned in great sur-prise. 
"There, at the oth-er end of the 
man-ger, in a co-zy cor-ner, waa 




her old gray oat. That waaat 
all.' There wore throe Iit-tle 
kits ; a white one, a black one, 
and a gray one. Su^y 
had not tern Ihem be- 
fore, und ahe fond-led 
theiu lov-ing-ly. 

" She's so proud be- 
cause she 
has twelve! 
said Mra. 
Puss, look- 
ing al-ter 
Mrs. W. L 
Hen. "Now 
I think a 
small fam- 
i-lyismuoh 
better — 
three, for in- 
ttance. Don ' t 
you think three 
nough 7" 

"In-deed," aaid Su- 
ay, " I think one'a 
e-nough , if it's teeth-ing." 

" Mine nev-or have trou-ble 
with their teeth. And per-hapa 1 
can nev-er teach your ba-by to 

Cnrr or to catch mice. Still, I 
e-lieve I'll take him, and let you 
hare one kit-ten, aa I have three." 
" Oh, no ; you don't un-der- 
atand me," cried Sn-sy. " I don'l 
want to change at all. I'd rath- 
er have my Iit-tle broth-or than 
a-ny-thing else in the world." But 
Mrs. Puss took hold of him aa if 
.to car-ry him off. Ba-by gave a 
acream, and then Su-sy— a-woki^ ! 
Then she looked a-round with a 
laugh, aa ahe thought of all she 
had seen and heardln her dream, 
aince she had anng her-self to 
sleep be-aide the ba-by. 

Mad-am Pnaa sat by a hole 
watch-ing fo>' rats. There wasn't 
a kit-ten a-ny-where. Mrs. Hen 
was fnm-ing and cack-ling and 
Bcratch-ing liard-er than ev-er, 
but Puss did not aeem to care 
wheth-er she had twelve chick- 
ens or a hun-dred. The calf waa 
feed-ing quiet-ly by its mam-ma, 
and the she^p and her lamb lay 
un-der the old elm. And up in 
the branch-es Su-sy could hear 
Mra. Red-breaat teach-ing her 
bird-ies to sing. 



n 



So then Su-sy run up to inn 
house and found sup-per wait-ing. 

Ba-by held out hia arms and 
waa soon on his moth-er's lap, as 
hnp-py as could bo. Susy locked 
at him and said : Qod has made 
e-ver-y-bod-y and e-vor-y-thing 
love their own ba hies best,haan't 
he, Mani-ma ?" 

" Yes. We would ralh-er lake 
care of our own ba-by than a-uy 
oth-cr, wouldn't we?" " Yea, 
in-deed," said Su-sf. And aa 
she rocked the ba-by 's era- die 
that night, she fin-iahed her lit- 
tle song in this way : 

" Nulh-ing will do, 
Nuth-ing will do ; 
V»u may trar-el tlio world a-rouml, 
And nev-er, in earth, or tea, or air, 
Will a lai-by lika him lie found. 

— ». Niehala: 




CONCERNING PRAYER. 

The Lord ia nigh unto all them 
that call upon Him. — Psalm cxlv. 
18. 

He will be very gracious unto 
thee at the voice of thy cry ; wheu 
He shall hear it. He will answer 
thee. — Is. XXX. 19, 

Verily, Verily, I say unto you, 

whatsoever ye shall ask the 

Father in My name He will give 

it you. — John xvi. 

28. 

Every one that 
askethreceiveth.and 
he that seeketh 
findeth, and to him 
that knocketh it 
shall be opened. — 
Luke xi. 10. 

What things so- 
ever ye desire when 
ye pray, believe that 
ye receive them, 
and ye ahall have 
them.— MarK zi. 24. 
1 1 ye shall ask 
anything in My 
xiv. 14. 
hteous err. and the Lord heareth, and 
all their troubles. — Pa. 



diaciple 



word then are ye my 
1 yiii. U. 









REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER. 



WATCH CRYSTALS. 



Onr'illnstration shows a hollow 
sphere of glass now in poaiesaion 
of L. Boyer, in Paris. The 

diameter is not stated, but the size 
can be judged from the fact that 
th: e hundred watch crystals 
have been cut out of it. The cut 
is taken from Ackermann's Oew- 
erbr Zeilung, and is from an actual 
photograph. The same paper gives 
thofollowinginteresting account of 
the manufacture of watch crystals. 

The first pocket v\ atches in use 
in Germany were oval in form, 
and hence called "Nuremberg 
eggs" (like our "bulls eyes") Only 
a few of them had a glass cover 
over the hands. These cpvers 
were flat or slightly convexed 
pieces of crystal cut out and 
polished on a primitive kind of 
grindstone. Of course they were 
very expensive. 

These oval watches were suc- 
ceeded by flattened spheres, and 
the glasses had the form of seg- 
ments of a sphere, or spl rical 
caps, made as follows: jmall 
glass bulbs were blown on very 
small gas-blowers' pipes, and from 
each bulb two of these caps were 
cut with the aid of two red hot 
iron rings, the sudden expansion 
causing a circular crack. The 
edges of these glasses weife 
polished either on a grindstone or 
with sand on a cast-iron plate. 

This process was very expen- 
sive, owing to the necessity of 
blowing as many bulbs as they 
wanted crystals, for 'wo could be 
rarely cut out c' one sphere. 
Moreover, the glasses, owing to 
their spherical shape, were very 
high in the middle, while the 
ends of the hands near the edge 
of the dial had a very narrow 
space to move in. 

As the thick watches of the last 
cen'ury gave place to thinner 
ones, and the high convexed 
glasses became inconvenient and 
unhandsome, flat glasses were 
made which were but shghtly 
curved near the edges. They 
were made from thick, flat glass 
hollowed out in the centre and 
rounded off aroand the edges. 
Owing to their high price, they 
were only used on fine watches 

The concave watch glasses ol 
the present day are not hollowed 
out on a grindstone, but made by 
a method invented in 1791 by a 
Bkilful watch-glass m-'cer in 
Paris named Pierre Royer. The 
Geneva manufacturers imitated 
his method, and succeeded in de- 
veloping it into an important 
branch of industry. 

Before Rover's process had been 
perfected and came into general 
use, various interesting experi- 
ments ware mado in the glasshouse 
ip Goetaeubruth, in 1880. Little 
phials were blown, each with a 
slightly curved bottom, and this 
bottom when cut off formed a 
concave glass; bn* as it required 
a new phial fc every watch 
I crystal, this made them too ex- 
i pensive also. . 



One improvoment followed an- 
other until finally tliey al'e 
mad* in wonderful perfection 
and with surprising rapidity, 
which ia due principally to the 
skill of the glass-blower, so that 
now verv thin glasses of enormous 
size can be made. 

The glass-blower takes up 
several pounds of prlass on the 
wide endof his pipe in that plastic 
state in which it can be worked 
like wax, and rounds it off by 
roiling it on a damp block of 
wood and first blowing into it 
gently. He then blows a little 
harder and swings it to and fro, 
which lengthens it out, and with 
proper tools he gives it a long 
pear-shape. Having acquired the 
approximate form required, it is 
re-heated in the furnace, and then 
blown out to a larger size, a steam 
blast being employed to finish the 
blowing. The finished ball, which 
resembles a balloon, is cut from 



one hand, the other draws a little 
white hot tube around the edge 
of the pattern. This circle is 
immediately moistened with cold 
water, and the sudden contraction 
that followsthe previous expan- 
sion causes the piece to crack ofi", 
forming a more c less hemispheri- 
cal crystal. 
This process has, however, been 
superseded bv the so-called lour- 
nette, a tool that resembles a car- 
penter's compass (dividers), one 
leg being provided with a 
diamond. 

First, ten circles are cut on the 
ball with the point of the diamond 
of this little instrument. As these 
little scratches do not go through 
the glass, the next and most 
tedious part of the operation is to 
break loose one of the separate 
crystals. This is accomplished 
by little strokes or taps all around 
the circle. After on? has been 
taken out, the workman can put 




A. OLABS GLOBE FBOU 



WHICH THREE HUNDRED 
WEBB ODX 



WATCH CRY8TAL8 



rapid, and only the edges need 
polishing. This is done on grind- 
stones of hard material, which 
produce the bevelled, sligbtlypro- 
jecting edge that holds it in the 
case. It is finely polished with 
cork. 

The last method has been still 
further simplified by grinding the 
disks as soon as they are cut out 
with the diamond. The bevelled 
edge is formed on sandstone 
wheels, and then the glass is put 
in a mulSle without polishing to 
give it the arched or curved form. 
The ground edges are rounded 
by the heat, and rendered smooth 
and brilliant, and at the same time 
are harder and firmer, so that 
they can be set more easily. 

At the watch crystal factory of 
Trois-Fontaines in Lothringen, 
there are 62 gross (74,880) 
manufactured daily, •^ach glass 
passing through thirty-five dis- 
tinct operations. 

After the watch glasses have 
acquired the requisite shape by 
pressing the warm and softened 
glass on to or into moulds, they 
are taken to a large room fitted 
with grinding and polishing 
lathes. The grinding is of three 
kinds. The first consists in grind- 
ing away the convexed portion so 
that the outside is nearly all flat, 
and the glass is thin in the middle, 
but n&r the rim retains its 
original thickness. The second 
is similar to the first, but only the 
centre is ground, forming a sirall 
circular spot that is sligntly ,on- 
cave. 

The third is grinding the edge 
to a proper bevel, so ihat it will 
fit into the crease of the case ac- 
curately, which is absolutely 
necessary for holding it securely 
This operation is performed on 
lathes driven by steam, and one 
man can tend eight or ten of them, 
as it is only ntcessary to put them 
on and take (hem off. 

After a final polishiug with 
pumice, measuring, sorting and 
inspecting they are ready for 
packing ancl shipping. 



the pipe and placed on a 
wooden work - bench upside 
down. 

In some glasshouses they have 
succeeded in blowing balloons 
from 12 to 82 inches in diameter 
with t'ase. Sometimes they exceed 
40 Inches, and the walls of such 
colossal balls do not exceed 1-25 
or at most 1-16 of an inch in thick- 
ness. 

TI.ese enormous balls can be 
designated as truly industrial 
works of art. About 6ii0 watch 
glasses can 1 e cut from one such 
sphere, by a method whicu we 
will describe below. As these 
large balls, owing to their great 
size, are liabl ^ to break, and tan- 
not be handled rapidlv, it is 
customary to make smaller oues 
and cut them in two. First a 
metallic pattern of a wato.. ja 
made, and either pressed on the 
sphere or on a strip cut out of it. 
While this is held in place with 



his thumb through the opening 
into 'h J sphere; and then taking 
the next one between the thumb 
and fore-finger, he liiresses gently 
outward, and thus separates the 
second, after which the rest are 
taken out in the same way. 

After they have been cut out, 
and before thoy are ground to the 
proper form, the glass must be 
subjected to another operation, 
the object of which is to improve 
and shape the rim so thnt it may 
fit accurately into the crease 
around the watch case. 

The glasses are put into mufHes 
of refractory clay hi-atcd with 
coke. When snfTiciently heated, 
they are placed on a cast-iron 
plate in front of the muffle and 
pressed down on the moulds with 
a wooden lid of conical form. 
The projecting edge of the glass 
getting heated first is softer, so 

that i» alone is pressec' down by and his sense of right l.ad Deeu 
the hd This method is moTti\orxinged.~ ChHsfian InieihiteHcer 



A Boy of thirteen came to 
New York to sppk his livelihood. 
The first opportunity that 
offered was a position in a drug 
store. For a few days every thing 
seemed satisfactory, but after a 
few weeks' experience, he ex- 
claimed earijestly : " I can't stay 
in that place, I am willing to 
work all day, to work nights, 
and to work hard ; but to work 
Sundays, that's what I wont 
do. If people only came in 
to buy medicine, that would 
be one thing; but to stay there 
and sell perfumery, and soda 
water, and mineral water, thing.t 
they don't need at all ! i 
never felt so mean in all my 
life " It was only by a strong effbn 
that the brave littlp fellow kept 
back the tears as he felt ihit his 
moral nature had received ashock 
and his sense of 



^Hb'i^- 



«Hi 



■at, '>e or 
1 on tl 






59 ■▼ 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



SHADOW-PIOTURES AND 
SILHOUETTES. 

Ever sines there have been 
home walls for sunlight, fire-light, 
or lamp-light to fall upon, au of 
us children have been interested 



I 




in shadow-pictures, and shadow- 
pictiires nearly always have 
seemed glad to oblige us in all 
sorts of pleasant way*. Some> 
times they give us Grandma's 
head and cap, showing sharp and 
clear upon the wall; sometimes 
dear little Bobby's curly pate and 
rollicking movements; or perhaps 
a big shadow-puss, gracefully 
waving a blurred shadow-tail on 
the white surface opposite the 
glowing fire-place ; oi, possibly, 
a shadow looking wonderfully 
like something that isn't in the 



how impossible it is to keep the 
original quiet while the rest are 
merrily enjoying the picture. He 
or she is sure to turn to see what 
it looks like, and so spoil it all. 

Now, if you wish to obtain a 
shadow-picture buy sheets oi 
paper, black on one side and 
white on the other, which may 
be found at any stationer's and 
pin one of these sheets of paper 
upon the wall, opposite a lamp, 
with the white surface outward ; 
then, after providing yourself 
with a well pointed pencil, place 
your sitter in such a positioir 
that a clear, strong shadow of 
the profile is thrown upon the 
paper. If your sitter (or stander) 
can now remain absolutely still, 
you have only to trace the outline 
of the shadow carefully with your 
pencil, taking care to work as 
rapidly as practicable. When 
the outline is all thus traced, you 




..Z^''- 






room at all, just because someboay 
has flung a coat, or a bnt, or a 
huiidle, or what not, on table or 
um chair. No matter what it 
may be, one thing is certain. If 
any substance, living or inani- 
ni:itt>, comes between a strong 
liirhi and a wall, it must oast a 
sliiiilow, and we ci\n make some- 
(liiiig out of it or no* just as we 
please. All of you have some- 
limos seen the grotesque likeness 
ot a person in the shadow which 




selves by making comical hand- 
shadows upon the wall. A very 
little practice enabled them to 
represent the heads and bodies oi 




he or she unconsciously casts up 
on the wall, and have noticed 





various animals, and to set these 
one by one to snapping their 
jaws or talking little leaps upon 
the wall. In the accompanying 
pictures you \''ill find designs, 
some new and BotL>e old, on which 
to practice your dexterous in- 
genuity. — Ex. 

THE FATE OF A HERD OF 
BUFFALOES. 
An army ofiicer who aboat four 
years ago arrived in Chicago from 
the Yelllowstone Valley, tells a 
story of what happened to a herd 
of buffaloes as they were migrat- 
ing southward. The herd num^ 
,->!/ a- /srx y bered 2,800 head, and had been 

.^SC -A- -29«<. jyj^g„ ^^t „f ,hg Mji,j jjiygj 

country by the Indian hunters be- 

can go back and repair any part longing to Silting Bull's band 

that seems incorrect. This done, 

release your sitter and take the 

paper from the wall Now you 

have only to cut out the picture 

close to the pencil-mark, and as 

the other side of the paper is 

black, you turn over your picture 

and paste it upon a sheet of white 

paper, and you can show your 

silhouette portrait in triumph to 

your obliging sitter, the whole 

thing having been ancomplished 

in about five minutes. Many 

boys and girls become very ex- .^, ^, i. j lu • .i. 

pen in making these pictures. When they reached the river they 

*^ D 1 ' ventured upon the ice with their 

customary confidence, coming 
upon it with a solid front, and be^ 
ginning the crossing with closed 
ranks. The stream at this point 
was very deep. When the front 
file, which was stretched out a 
quarter of a mile in length, had 
nearly gained the opposite shore, 
the ice suddenly gave way under 
them. Some trappers who were 
eye-witnesses of the scene said it 
, , ., , , seemed as if a trench had been 

and, by seizing every available opened in the ice the whole length 

opportunity lor tracing shadow- of the column. Some-four or five 

pictures of their Irienus, in time 

br<come possessed of a valuable 

collection of silhouette portraits. 

The excellence of the picture must 

depend very much, of course, on 

the skill of the draughtsman who 

traces the shadow, on the power 

of the sitter to remain quiet, and 

on the proper position of the lamp 

for throwing a clear shadow. 
But long before these shadow- 1 

albums were thought of, people { hundred animals tumbled into the 

had found out a capital way of opening all in a heap. Others fell 

amusing little folks and them- 1 in on top of th«m and sank out of 





.sja^ 



sight in atr^nkling. By this time 
the rotten ice was breaking under 
the still advancing herd. The 
trappers say that in less than a 
minute the whole body of buflfa- 
loes had been precipitated into the 
river. They were wedged in so 
thickly that they could do nothing 
but struggle for a second and 
then disappear beneath the cakes 
of ice of the swift current. Not % 
beast in all that might]^ herd tried 
to escape, but in a solid phalanx 
tlfty marched to their fatal bath 
in the " Big Muddy. " In a min- 
ute from the time the first ice 
broke not a bufialo's head or tail 
was to be seen. 

Possibly occurrences of this 
sort, in ancient tertiary times, 
helped to form the remarkable 
deposits of bones found in the old 




lake beds of the great West and 
elsewhere. In these deposits the 
earth is literally crowded with 
bones, sometimes chiefly of one 
type, sometimes comprising many 
distinct species. In the latter case 
the victims were probably swept 
away by sudden floods, their re- 
mains minglingconfusedlyinquiet 
basins. — Scientific American. 



We Know of nothing more fa- 
tal to the accomplishment of any 
thing in an intellectual way than 
the idea that many persons get. 




tha 1 1 he y m list defer study till some 
period ill life when thoy shall have 
no interruptions. They allow ten 
minutes here and half an hour 
there to run to waste, because it 
seems hardly worth while to at- 
tempt study for so short a time 
We have known persons, by avail- 
ing themselves of a few minutes' 
time each day, gain, during a year. 
an extensive acquantance with 
some particular branch of study ; 
whileothers, who would not econ- 
omize the minute.s had scarcely a 
useful acquisition.- TAe Hou!>eh«lil. 



$H9 




;; 



60 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



ABOUT POISON-IVY. 

At this season of the year, when 
no many of our youn^ folks are 
gatherinff wild flowers, ferns, 
berries, leaves and mosses in the 
woods and along the hedges, I 
c innot think of a more useful les- 
son in wood and field botany than 
that which teaches how to know 
and distinguish two of the most 
poisonous vegetable substances 
to be met with in the woods. I 
moan the poison-ivy, poison-o^, 
and mercnry-vine, which are the 
common names for one and the 
same vine found climbing up the 
trunks of trees, on rail, board and 
stone fences, over rocks and 
bushes, in waste lands and mead- 
ows. In fact everywhere and 
anywhere it can secure a foot oi 
ground, no matter how poor, or 
how mach exposed to the scorch- 
ing rays of the sun, thif ivretched 
vine prospers, happy and conten- 
ted to spread out its poisonous 
arms hidden beneath itsarlossy and 
graceful foliage. In Fig. 1 is 
shown a close study from nature 
of a specimen growmg at the sea 
side. When the ivy has a chance 
to climb up a tree or bush, up it 

f;oes, throwing out its aerial root- 
etsin all directions. But when 
growing away from any support, 
in the sand which ia being con- 
stantly displaced by the strong 
ocean winds, it then grows stout, 
erect and bush-like. Under these 
peculiar circumstances of growth 
it has received the name of poison- 
oak, and was supposed by many 
botanists to be a separate variety, 
though in fact the poison-ivy and 
oak are one and the same thing. 
When the stem of the poison-ivy 
is wounded, a milky jnice issues 
from the wound. The leaves 
after being separated from the 
vine, tarn black when exposed to 
the air. 

The stem of the vine is nearly 
smooth in texture ; the aerial 
rootlets (Fig. 1, AAA), which start 
from all parts of the stem, are of 
a bright browu colorwhen young. 
The masses of berries when un- 
ripe are of a light green color : 




FIO. 1— POISON-IVT. 



heavy bloom. In the fall of the 
year the leaves turn to a deep red 
and brownish-red color. 



The poison-sumac, swamp-su- 
mac, or dogwood (Fig. 8) is ten 
times more severe in its poisoning 
qualities than the poison-ivy. It 
grows from six to ten feet in 
height, in low marshy grounds. 
The berries are smooth, white, 
or dun-colored, and in form and 



■mm 



when ripe, of an ashen gray. Be- 
low the mass of this year's berries 
are generally to be found those 
of last year The leaf has a 
smooth and somewhat shiny tex- 
ture, and curves downward from 
the midrib. To many people the 
slightest contact with the leaves 
of the ivy will produce poisoning. 
I have known of instances where 
persons in passing masses of ivy- 
vine, particularly when the wind 
was blowing from the vine to- 
ward the passer-by, became 
severely poisoned. Une of our 
most beautiful native vines, the 
so-called Virginia creeper, which 

frequently grows side by side, r »c ■ i 

with the ivv, is often mistaken for wreaths and bunches of artiBcial 
it. and blamed for the evil doings flowers inside and outside of 
of its neighbor, and yet is so in- ladies bonnets The flower- 
uocent and beautiful a vino that makers, being hard pressed for 
I have figured it in full fruit ( Fig, material, inade use of dried 
2), The Virginia creeper has a ffrasses, seed-vessels, burrs, and 
leaf consisting of five lobes, which 
are distinctly nptched, and which 



of villanoua berries on the top 
and sides of the head, and a few 
of the sprays about the ears and 
on the forehead. Stepping into 
the store, I addressed the pro- 
prietress, and asked her if she 
knew that the bonnet was 
trimmed with the berries of one 
of the most poisonous shrubs 
known in the country. After 
staring at me in a sort of puzzled 
way, she informed me that I was 
mistaken; that she had received 
those flowers from Paris only a 
week aso. 

" Madam," I replied, " there 
must be a mistake somewhere, 
for those aie the berries of the 
poison-sumac, which does not 
grow in Bnrope." 

8he gave me one angry look, 
asked me to please attend to my 
own business, and swept away 
from me to the other end of the 
store. 

A few days after this I read in 
the daily papers an account of the 
poisoning of a number of small 
girls employed in a French arti 
ncial flower manufaotory in 
Greene Street. I at on ('>> guessed 
the causew I visited the factory 
mentioned, introduced myselfto 
the proprietor, told him what 1 
knew about the poison berries — 
and was rudely requested to make 
myself scarce. After these two 
adventures I made up my mind 
to keep my botanical knowledge 
(poisonous though it might be) to 
myself. 

When poisoned with ivy or 
sumac (they are all sumacs). 



Size closely resemble those of the , jf t^^^ ,„^ g^ij^g medicines are 

^^y- I taken, the poison will slowly ex- 

This suiUHi' is terrible in its ef- ! haust itself ; but it is a tedious 

fects ol'teii causing temporary and slow operation. — Harper'i 



blindness. Some years ago it be- 
came the fashion to wear immense 



curve 



r>V>/' 




no. 2. — VIHOINIA CBKKPI I . 



upward from the midrib, 
Instead of aerial 
rootlets like the 
ivy, it has stout 
K^^ tendrils more or 
'"^ " less twisted and 
curled, often as- 
suming the form 
of a spiral spring. 
These tendrils are 
provided with a 
disk by means ol 
which an attach- 
ment JN inado to 
any object within 
reach (see Fitr 2. 
13 B ) 

The stem has the 
appearance ot be- 
in-r jointed. The 
berries are lurire 
and grape-like in 
the form of the 
duster, and when 
ripe are of a deep 
blue color, with 



catkins ; these were painted, dyed, 
frosted and bronzed to make them 
attractive. I became greatly in- 
terested in the business and the 
ingenuity displayed, 
and spent much time 
examining the con- 
tents of milliners' win- 
dows. On one oc- 
casion when standing 
before a very fashion- 
able milliner s window 
on Fourteenth Street, I 
was horror-stricken on 
discovering that an 
immense wreath of 
grayish berries which 
constituted the inside 
trimming ol' a bonnet, 
was composed eniirely 
of the berries ol the 
poison-snmac just as 
they had b ( p n 
^ra'heied, nota panicle 
of varnish, bronze, or 
other material coating 
them. The bonnet, 
when worn, would 
bring this entire raaaa 



Youn)^ People. 



There is no Soil which, un- 
der proper tillage, may noc be 
made a garden. So there is no 
heart orlife, however barren, that 
may not, by cultivation under the 
inspiration of Christ, be made 
productive of every good word 
and work. 




FI0.8.— P0180N-9UM Ar 



n 



m the top 
and a few 
e ears and 
>ping into 
the pro- 
ber ir she 
nnet was 
ies ofonu 
as shrubs 
try, Al't«r 
of puzzled 
that I was 
d received 
ris only a 

Bd, " there 

lomewhere, 

ies of the 

does not 

ngry look, 
ttend to ray 
wept away 
end of the 

is I read in 
count of the 
ter of ^mall 
•"rench art!- 
ifactory in 
n(;<^ guessed 
the factory 
d myself to 
lim what I 
tn berries — 
sted to make 
r these two 
p my mind 
I knowledge 
night be) to 

vith ivy or 
ill sumacs), 
adicines are 
1 slowly ex- 
s a tedious 
n — Harper'i 



, which, un- 
may not be 
there is no 

barren, that 
3u under the 
it, be made 

good word 







-eMW 



J 



A TRUE 



REPRINTEn STORIES, FROM T HK " NORTHERN MESSENGER.';^ fil 

Tears pa|$edaway,and I sought to prove that, to become great, a Q 



HISTORY 
BOYS. 



OF TWO 



II 



BY THE REV. R. U. CRAIQ, 

They attended the same school, 
sat side by side on the same seats, 
vied with each other in the same 
classes, played the school-games 
together, and were to each other 
ns brothers. They were am 
bitions, and often spoke of the 
future "when they would be men 
ol distinction," and even in boy- 
hood began to plan about the 
best way of obtaining a classical 
education, which they considered 
indispensable tu success. Their 
lathers were men of 
limited means, having 
to work hard for the 
support of their child- 
len, and never dreamed 
of giving their boys an 
education higher than 
that furnished by the 
common schools. In 
the village school, how- 
over, these boys hud an 
excellent teacher, who 
taught them more than 
how to read and write 
and do sums. He in- 
spired them with the 
idea ot" workiii!^ for 
themselve8,and lostered 
their ambition to rise 
in the world without 
Ihe help ot others, by 
using for that purpose 
all honorable means 
with perseverance and 
a will. 

Already each had got 
hold uf a Latin grammar, 
and they were conning 
oviT " penna, pennie, 
pi'Miiro," to the utter as- 
tonishment of their fel- 
low-pupils, while the 
still more puzzling my- 
stery was declared that 
the angle A. B. C. is 
equal to the angle D. E. 
F. D. and that z is equal 
toanythingin this world. 

While quite younir 
the boys left school, 
taking charge of schools 
of their own as teachers, 
hut still pursuing the 
path which to each 
seemed to point out the 
way to the object of their 
ambition. John had the 
credit of being just a 
little brighter than his 
li'llow. but James had 
the reputation of being n young 
man of excellent character ; and 
it was a matter of some amuse- 
ment to his rival to learn that 
when he became a teacher, wish- 
ing to mould the character of his 
scholars, he had openly espoused 
the canse of temperance and re- 
fused to touch, taste or handle 
that which could hurt the body 
or mind of others. John claimed 
to be as temperate as James, but 
said he would not run to such 
foolishextremesby tiikingpledges, 
joining Rechabites, and nil tlint 
sort of nonsense. 

And so these two young men 



struck out in difTorent directions. 
John taught his school and reatd 
his Virgil and Homer, and, when 
fatigued with close study and 
late hours, sometimes he refreshed 
himself with a glass of wine. 

" Pugh ! " said he to the expos- 
tulations of his friend, James, 
when they happened to meet 
after two or three years' separa- 
tion, " if I never do worse than to 
take a glass of wine, I do not 
think much harm can come to me." 

" That may be," said James, 
" but so many do come to harm 
that I would not run the risk for 
all the good it does." 



the two young men. I knew 
where to find one of them, but 
was not certain about the other. 
After many enquiries I knocked 
at the door of an obscure house 
in an obscure street, and in re- 
sponse there came to the door a 
man, John, who had the reputa- 
tion of being a Hue scholar, know- 
ing Latin and Greek, Hebrew 
and Arabic, French and German ; 
but I noticed that he had hard work 
to stand steadily on his feet for 
the few moments I spoke to him, 
and his tongue was evidentl/too 
large for distinct communication. 




AHMED AT ALL POINTS. 



" Nothing refreshes me so much 
after a hard night's study as a 
glass of sherry," responded John, 
with earnestness ; " and I think 
if you but knew the value of it 
you would try it. Young men 
like us have no much study to do 
that we must have something to 
keep up our strength ; and I hope 
we are not foolish enough to hurt 
ourselves." 

" I think my strength will last 
as long as yours," said James ; 
" besides, when I do not feel the 
need, I do not care to risk the 
danger. I can get along well 
enough without such helps." 



man must rule his own spirit 
and shun the very appearance of 
evil. 

" But what i^ecame of the other 
young man ? " you ask. The 
question can be answered in a 
very few words. About six 
months after I last saw him he 
died suddenly in a fit of aelirivvi 
tremens, and was laid in a drunk- 
ard's grave. 

And so the history of these two 
boys comes out in perfect har- 
mony with the principles of char- 
acter which each planted for him- 
self. There is little difficulty in 
predicting results ; "For 
whatsoever a man sow 
eth that shall ho also 
reap. Forhe that soweth 
to the flesh shall of the 
flesh reap corruption ; 
but he that soweth to 
the spirit shall of the 
spirit reap life everlast- 
ing." — .iVfto York Ob- 
server 

THK LION HEART. 

King Richard I. of 
England was surnamed 
Coeur de Lion from his 
great bravery and gr-at 
physical strength. In 
his youth he fought 
against his father and 
his brothers, and after 
coming to the English 
throne joined the crusade 
to fight for possession 
of the Holy Land. He 
delighted in war and 
bloodshed, and as a con- 
sequence always had 
plenty to fight against. 
His subjects who fought 
under his banner ad- 
mired and loved him, 
but the rulers who 
fought with him against 
the Saracens could not 
stand his temper and as- 
sumptionsol superiority. 
This,more Ihananything 
else, caused Ihe want of 
Kuccessofthe crusade, On 
Richard's return home 
he was shipwrecked in 
the Adriatic sea, and 
whileseekingto continue 
his journey by land 
was captured by Leopold 
DukeofAustria.whomhe 
had grossly insulted, 
and was surrendered 
by him to the Emperor 
utter wreck at] Henry VI, who confined him in 
of age, and I several castles. Hewasfinally liber- 
sorrow and in i ated by ransom, returned to Eng- 
land, which he found was being 



He seemed an 
thirty-live years 
turned away in 
shame. 

I sought the lodgings of James, i ruled by his brother John whom he 
He was a college graduate and forgave, and then began war with 
was busy preparing to stand a Frnnce. While attacking the city 
special examination for a high of Chains in 1199 he was shot by 
academic degree. He showed | an arrow and the wound was so 
me a "call" which he had recent-! unskillully treated that he died, 
ly received from an important I The picture we give of him may 
church, urging him to become ' not be a very good likeness but it 
its pastor, and ne told me that he illustrates the manner in which 
probably would accept it. He the knights in those days dressed 
was still a temperance man — a j themselves for war, with chain- 
man of sterling principle and 1 armor, sliield and lance, a load in 
splendid mind; and he still '-ves| themselves. 



iH9 



f^HBP 



;; 



^2 REPRINTED STORIES, FRQM THE "NORTHERN 

METAMOBPHOSIS OF THE DEER'S 
ANTLERS. 



Every year in March the deer loses it ant- 
lers, andiresh onesvnmediately begin to grow, 
which exceed in size those that have just 
l)i>en lost. Few persons probably have been 
able to watch and observe the habits of the 
animal after it has lost its antlers. It will, 
therefore, be of interest to examine the a<> 
companyine drawing, by Mr. L, Beckmanii, 
showing a deer while shedding its antlers. In 
the illustration the 
animal has inst lost 
one of its antlers, and 
f rii^ht and pain have 
caused it to throw- 
its head upward 
and become disturb- 
ed and uneasy. 
The remaining ant- 
l)>r becomes soon de- 
tached from its base, 
and the deer turns 
— as if ashamed of 
having lost its orna- 
ment and weapon 
— lowers its head, 
and sorrowfully 
moves to the adjoin- 
ing thicket, where 
it hides. A friend 
once observed a 
deer losing its ant- 
lers, but thecircum- 
.stances were some- 
what different. The 
animal was jumping 
over a ditch, and as 
soon as it touched 
the further bank it 
jumped high in the 
air, arched its back, 
bent its head to one 
Hide in the manner 
of an animal that 
has been wounded, 
and then sadly ap- 
proached the nearest 
thicket, in the same 
manner as the artist 
has represented in 
the accompanying 
picture. Both ant- 
lers dropped off and 
foil into the ditch. 
Strong antlers are 
generally found to- 
gether, but weak 
ones are lost at inter- 
vals of two or three 
days. 

A few days after 
this loss the stumps 
upon which the ant- 
lers rested are cover- 
ed with a skin, 
whichgrowsupward 
very rapidly, and 
under which the 
t'renh antlers are 
formed, so that by 
the end of July the 
bucks have new and strong ant- 
lers, from which they remove the 
line hairy coverinEr by rubbing 
them against young trees. It is 
peculiar that the huntsman, who 
knows everything in regard to 
deer, and has seventy-two signs 
l)y which he can tell whether i\ 
male or female deer 
J. through the woods, 
i I know 





METAMORPHOSIS.OF DEER 8 ANTLERS, 



its first antlers and how the ant- 
lers indicate the age of the 
animiil. Prof, Altum, in Ehers- 
walde, has given some valuable 



n formation in regard to the rela- 
tion between the age of the deer 
iMid the forms of their antlers, but 
in some respects he has not ex- 
passcs I pressed himself very cloorly, and 
does not 1 1 think that my observations giv- 
at what age the deer gets | en in addition to his may be of 



importance. When the animal i.s 
a year old — that is, in June — the 
burs of Ihe antlers begin to form, 
and in July the animal has two 
protuberances of the size of wal- 
nuts, from which the first 
branches of the antlers rise ; these 



©H» 

MESSENGER.;; ' 

branches are formed, which are considerably ' 
longer and much rougher at the lower ends 
than the first. The third pair of antlers is 
diflerent from its predecessors inasmuch as it 
has " roses," that is, annular ridges around the 
bases of the horn, which latter are now bent in 
the shape of a crescent. Either the antler has 
a single branch (Fig. 8, a), or besides thepoint 
it has another short end, which is a most rare 
shape, and is known as a " fork" (Fig. 8, b), or 
it has two forks (Fig. 8, c). In the following 
year the antlers take the form shown in Fig. 
4, and then follows 
the antler shown in 
Fig. 5, a, which 
generally has 
" forks" in place of 
points, and is 
known as forked 
antler in contradis- 
tinction to the 
point antler shown 
in Fig. 5, b. which 
retains the shape of 
the antler, Fig. 4, 
but has additional 
or inte rmediate 
prongs or branches. 
The huntsman de- 
signate the antlers 
by the number of 
ends or points on 
the two antlers. 
For instance. Fig. S 
a is a six ender ; Fig. 
6. b shows an eight 
ender, etc. ; and ant- 
lers have been 
known to have as 
many as twenty- 
two ends. If the 
two antlers do not 
have the same num- 
ber of ends, the 
number of ends on 
the larger antler is 
multiplied hf two 
and the word " odd" 
is placed before Ihe 
word designating 
Ihe number of ends. 
For instance, if one 
antler has three ends 
and the other four, 
the antler would be 
termed "odd" eight 
ender. The sixth 
antler shown in Fig. 

6 is a ten ender, and 
appears in two dif- 
ferent forms, either 
with a fork at the 
upper end, as shown 
in Fig. 6, a, or with 
a crown, as shown 
inFig. 6, ft. In Fig. 

7 an antler isshown 
which the animal 
carries from its se- 
venth year until the 
month of March of 
its eighth year. 
From that time on 

the crowns only increase and 
change. The increase in the 
number of points is not always 
.IS regular as I have described it, 
for in years when food is scarce 
and poor the antlers are weak 
ind sninll, and when food is pleii- 



branches having the length of a lil'ul and rich the antlers grow ex- 
linger only, or being even shorter, I ceedingly large, and sometimes 
as shown at 1 in diagram. Af-lskip an entire year's growth.— 
ter the sacond yeisr more Karl Brandt. 



(iM^- 



^H» 



r 



REI'RINTKr) STOHIKS. h'ROM Till', ' NORTHERN MKSSKNCJER" 



I 



THB TIN SAVINGS'- BANK. 

Charles Lynford was a clever 
journeyman fitter in one of our 
large iron works, in good work 
and earning good wages. At the 
age of twenty-six he married Oaro- 
line Eustice, the daughter of a 
neighbor, who, although she had 
no money dowry, yet brought him 
many personal qualificationB.com- 
bined with habits of thrift, learn- 
ed under a clever. God-fearing 
mother in an economical house- 
hold under the stern teachings of 
necessity. 

It was well perhaps that 
Charles Lynfordobtained a wife 
of this character, since he himself 
found it very difficult to save any- 
thing from his weekly Wages. 

Caroline s«on became acquaint- 
ed with her husband's failings. 
She was uneasy on finding that 
they were living fully up to their 
income. She looked forward also 
to a time when their family ex- 
penses would grow larger, and 
possibly her husblmd's wages 
might become less. 

After much thought,and praying 
lor God's guidance, she purchased 
of a pedler who came to the door 
a little tin safe, such as children 
commonly use as the money-box. 
This she placed in the front of 
the mantelpiece, where Oharles 
would be sure to see it. 

On entering he called out, 
" Hello, Carrie, what's that?" 

" Only a little purchase that I 
made to-day," said his wife. 

" But whatever is it meant for ?" 
he asked. 

" Let me explain it to yon, 
Charles," said his wife, playfully. 
" Have you sixpence in ^our 
pocket?" 

Charles held oat a sixpence. 
His wife took it from his hand 
and gently dropped it into the 
box throash a slit in the top. 

Charles laughed. 

" So you have taken to hoard- 
ing, Carrie. Has my little wife 
become a miser?" 

" No, only a little prudent. But, 
seriously, Oharles, that is just 
what I want you to do every 
week-day night." 

"What! drop sixpence into 
this new-fangled invention of 
yours?" 

" Exactly." 

" Very well, that will be easy 
enough ; sixpence is no great 
sum. But may I ask what you 
are going to do with this newly- 
commenced hoard ?" 

" Lay it by for a rainy day," 
answered Caroline. 

Charles laughed heartily. 

" And what will sixpence a 
day amount to ?" he inqnired. 

" In a year it will amount " 

commenced his wife, seriously. 

" Oh, never mind — spare me 
the calculation I" 

" But you don't object to my 
plan, Charles, do you ?" 

" Not in the least, I have no 
doubt it is very prudent and 
commendable; but you know, 
Carrie, I never was gifted with 
much foresight or prudence." 



" Yes, Charles. I am well aware 
that what you say is true," said 
his wife, smiling. 

This ended the conversation for 
the time. 

# * * # * 

The plan inaugurated by the 
yonng wife was steadily carried 
out. Caroline was not one of 
those who eagerly enter upon a 
new plan and soon tire of it. No ; 
she was thoroughly satisfied of 
the wisdom of her purpose, and 
resolved by God's blessing to car- 
ry it through. Every morning 
she asked her husband for six- 
pence, which was forthwith add- 
ed to the accumulation. Some- 
times Charles had not sixpence in 
change, but he had shillings. One 
of these he would then toss to his 
wife instead ! And she would 
assure him, laughingly, that this 
would answer her purpose equal- 
ly as well ! 

More than once Charles would 
banter his wife on the subject of 
her tin savings' -bank, but this she 
always bore with significant 
smiles. 

The sixpences and the shillings 
of the husband were not the only 
accessions that the tin box re- 
ceived. Charles had early ar- 
ranged to make his wife an ample 
allowance for dress, but, like a 
wise better-half of a working man, 
she made her own dresses, and 
thus provided herself with a de- 
cent wardrobe at a mnch less cost 
than some women not so well 
versed in the science of household 
management could have done. 

After considerable thought and 
calculation, Carrie came to the 
conclusion that out of her allow- 
ance for dress she could make a 
daily deposit equal to that which 
she exacted from her husband ! 
Of this, however, she thought it 
best at the present time not to in- 
form Oharles, enjoying in antici- 
pation the prospect of being able 
at some future time to surprise 
him with the unexpected amount 
of her savings. At the close of 
every month, Caroline opened her 
tin box, and carefully transferred 
the contents to a Sarings'-Bank of 
higher pretensions, and where 
.interest was allowed. 

Of his wife's mode of manage- 
ment of the money, the husband 
remained in complete ignorance. 
Nor did he ever express any de- 
sire to know where it went to. 
He was an easy, careless fellow, 
spending as he went, enjoying the 
present, and, like too many men, 
alas I not feeling any particular 
concern about the future. 

At the end of eight years, da- 
ring which Charles Lynford had 
been favored with constant work 
and uninterrupted health, his ac- 
count books showed that his ex- 
penses]) had not exceeded his in- 
come for he saw that there was 
half a crown on the credit side ! 

" That's running pretty close, 
isn't it, Carrie?" he said, laughing- 
ly. "I take credit to myself for 
keeping on the riffht side of the 
line. But then I suppose that 



you have saved up a good snm ?" 

"How much do you think?" 
asked his wife. 

"Oh, perhaps twenty -five 
pounds," said Charles. 

His wife smiled, but did not 
volunteer to enlighten him as to 
the correctness of his conjecture. 

So things went on, until there 
came a panic in the iron trade^ 
a panic so severe that tens of 
thousands of working men and 
their families were afiTected by it ; 
and amongst them w«i8 Charles 
Lynford and his wife ! 

One eveningCharles came home 
looking very sad — s rare thing 
with him. Caroline, who had 
watched the signs of the times, 
was not unprepared for her hus- 
band's sad look. She had expec- 
ted that the trade of the great iron 
works would be afiected. 

" What is the matter, Charles?" 
she asked cheerfully. 

" The matter is, Carrie, that we 
shall have to economize greatly," 
he replied. 

" Anything unfavorable at the 
works, Charles ?" 

"I should think there was. I 
shall be put on ' half-time ' next 
week, and I am afraid that even 
that will tail before long. Yoa 
have no idea, Carrie, how dull 
business of every kind has be- 
come, and especially in our trade. 

" IHhink I have, Charles," said 
his wife quietly. " I have read a 
little in the paper lately, and have 
been looking ont for something 
of this kind." 

" Do you think we can reduce 
our expenses one half?" asked 
the husband doubtfully. 

I do think we shall be able 
to do so," said Caroline. 

" But, suppose my work should 
entirely fail, I imagine that, clever 
as you are, you couldn't reduce 
our expenses to nothing at all, 
could you ?" 

" That certainly surpasses my 
power, Charles," said Carrie smil- 
ing ; " but even in that case there 
is no ffround for discouragement. 
You nave not forgotten our tin 
savings'-bank, have you ?" 

" Well, now, I didn't think of 
that," said her husband. " I sap- 
pose that would keep the wolf 
from the door for a fe a weeks ?" 

His wife smiled ! 

" And in those weeks," after a 
pause, she added, smilingly, 
" business might revive. ' 

" To be sure," said Charles. 
" Let us hope that it will be all 
right. " I'll try to ' trust and not 
be afraid,' and I'll thank God 
more and more for my clever and 
thoughtful wife." 

The apprehensions to which 
Charles Lynford had given ex- 
pression, proved to be only too 
well founded. In loss than a 
month from the day on which the 
above conversation took place, the 
large iron works were " closed," 
and Oharles, with two thousand 
other hands, was without work or 
wages. 

Although Charles Lynford had 
anticipated this, yet it was a fear 



f.3 J 



ful blow when it came, and he 
again returned home in deep sor- 
row. He briefly explained to his 
wife the terrible calamity which 
had come upon him. 

"And the worst of it is," he 
added, " there is no hope of better 
times until spring. However 
■hall we get through the winter, 
Carrie ?" 

"Do you think, Oharles, that 
business will revive in the 
spring ?" 

"Oh, yes, onr masters said 
they had every hope that a change 
for the better in our trade would 
take place in the spring, but then 
there are frooi five to six months 
between now and then. I don't 
know how we are to live during 
the winter months." 

" I do, Charles. Let ns kneel 
down and thank God that it is 
possible for me to say, 'Idol' " 

" You !" exclaimed her astonish- 
ed husband. 

" Yes, I do, Charles. We can 
live on fifty pounds for six 
months." 

" Of coarse we can, but wher- 
ever is that large sum to come 
from ? I don't want to run in 
debt, and if I did, I shouldn't 
know where to borrow such a 
sum as that." 

" Fortunately there is no need 
of that, Charles. Yon seem to 
forget our little tin box !" 

" But is it possible the contents 
can amount to fifty pounds ?" ex- 
claimed Charles, in surprise. 

" Yes, and one hundred pounds 
more," replied the delighted wife 
to her astonished husband. 

"Impossible, Carrie !" 

" Wait a minute, Charles, and 1 
will prove it." 

Caroline withdrew with a light 
step for a few moments, and then 
reappeared with her Savings'- 
Bauk book. She opened it, and 
pointed to a sum of over One 
Hundred and Fifty Pounds 
standing to her credit ! 

" Are you quite sure, Carrie, 
that yon haven't had a legacy left 
you ?" demanded Charles, in 
amazement. " Surely sixpence a 
day has never produced this ?" 

"No, but a shilling a day has, 
with a little extra deposit now 
and then. I think, Charles, that 
we shall, if God be pleased to 
spare our lives, be able to ward 
ofi" starvation for a time." 

" All this I owe to your pru- 
dence, my dear Carrie," said 
Charles, gratefully. " How can 
I repay you?" 

Charles Lynford remained out 
of employment until the spring. 
but then, as anticipated, trade re- 
vived, and he was again in re- 
ceipt of his old wages. More than 
two-thirds of Carrie's fund was 
still left, and henceforth Charles 
was no less assiduous than his 
worthy wife in striving to in- 
crease its contents. 

The little tin savings'-box still 
stands on the mantelpiece, and 
never fails to receive a deposit 
daily — Britith Workman. 



iH^ 



«4» 






64 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



ANOTHER TALK WITH 
UNCLE PHILIP. 

BT E. V IfOBBT. 

A little hnrried knock was heard 
at the door, and Uucia Philip, on 
opening it, found a group of 
children, with evea tparkling and 
oheeka rosy with excitement. 

" O Uncle Philip !" cried Annie 
eagerly, "what do you think 
Charlie haa ?" 

"A bird, I expect," said Uncle 
Philip, smiling. 

"Oh, yes, a lovely little hum- 
ming-bird," answered three or 
four voices in chorus. " He shot 
him with water from his pop-gun, 
and stunned him." . 

Uncle Philip took the tiny- 




half a walnut-she|l, and they are 'could scarcely see them beyond 
beantiful, cup-shaped little homes, tho feathers ? Its wings, too, are 
often placed in the fork of a so long and narrow that they 
branch. Tho outside is exauisite- ' seem to go by you like a flash of 
ly decorated with pieces of lichen, colored lisht; and the long slendur 
and the inside is lined with the | bill and fiorous tongue seum to bo 
finest silky fibres, a lovely bed ; perfect for exploring iiower-cnps. 



^ 



m^/7//w 



RUBY AND TOPAZ HTT.W MINO-BIRD. 

winged creature tenderly in his 
hand and laid it on a little cush- 
ion of down in a large empty cage 
covered with fine wire, which 
hung in the sunshiny window, 
among the honeysuckle flowers. 

"There he said, "your little 
captive will soon get over his 
shower-bath and his fright, and 
you can look at him for a while — 
and then, Annie, what shall we 
do with him ?" 

" Uncle Philip, we will set 
him free. Oh, I would not keep 
him in a cage !" 

" But we could do it," said 
Johnnie, " and feed him on syrup 
or honey." 

" No," said Uncle Philip, " he 
would not live on that. You 
would have to give him ants to 
cat as well as honey, or some 
meat and egg chopped very fine. 
The honey of flowers is not his 
only diet, if he does look so dainty 
and fairy-like. But we must not 
keep him in prison, for I think he 
has a little nest of his own." 

"Oh!" exclaimed Annie in de- 
light. " Did you ever see a hum- 
ming-bird's nest ?" Tell us how 
large i t is, and of what i t is made." 
Some are no larger inside than 






for their one or two tiny white 
egn ; but all their nesta are not 
alike, for you see there are no less 
than four hundred different 
species of humming-birds, and of 
course their homes are different 
too." 

" Four hundred !" repeated 
Johnnie. " I am surprised that 
there should be so many ! I would 
like to hear about some of the 
nests made by the others. What 
little house-builders they are !" 

" Some of them hang their tiny 
nests to creepers and vines which 
grow over the water, or even over 
the sea; and a Pidunclea hum- 
ming-bird is said, by Mr Wallace, 
to have fastened its nest to a straw- 
rope hanging from a roof. Others 
build theirs like miniature ham- 
mocks attached by spider's web 
to the face of the rocks ; while the 
little creatures, that dart here and 
there through the green forest 
shade like living gems, fasten 
their nests on the under side of 
palm-leaves or tree branches." 

" These humming-birds are so 
swift and brilliant, their throats 
and breasts glow with sucIAich, 
warm, shining colors, that I can- 
not fancy them as living any- 
where but in a land of flowers, a 
tropical forest or a southern 
island," said Annie's older sister. 
" Do you ever find them in cold 
countries ?" 

"There is an Antartic humming- 
bird that has been seen in Terra 
del Fuego, haunting the fnschia 
flowers ; and in the summer there 
are two kinds of humming-birds, 
the ruby-throat and the flame- 
bearer, that visit Canada and the 
Northern part of America, and 
build their little nests and bring 
up their young birds here, but at 
the approach of winter they are 
on the airy road to the sunshine 
and blooming fields of Mexico." 
He walked to the cage where the 
bird sat uneasily turning its little 
head quickly from side to side, and 
fluttering against the fine wires. 
He opened the door with a smile 
at the children's eager faces, and 
soon the bright wings had flown 
past, and were flitting through 
the flowers outside, and swiftly 
speeding away far out of sight. 

" That tiny wanderer and his 
companions have been known to 
travel three thousand miles to- 
ward the South. Think what 
visions of flowers must stir in the 
little birds' throbbing hearts in all 
that long journey ! Not of flowers 
alone, perhaps, but of great forest 
trees, and the small insects on 
their leaves and stems, and the 
rapid dart and dive through the 
air by which they catch them !" 

" They seem to be made for a 
life in the air. Uncle Philip," said 
Katie. " Did you notice the deli- 
cate little feet, so short that yon 



But 



and seizing their tiny prey while 
they are circling over and above 
in flight." 

' V es," said Uncle Philip, " I 
am glad, dear child, to see that 
you noticed it so closely, 
there are some of this family 
so small — their bodies are 
h«rdly larger than a bum- 
ble-bee — that when they 
they are whirling by you, 
you can scarcely perceive 
their shape.'' 

" Their colors are differ- 
ent, aren't they. Uncle 
Philip?" 

" Oh, yes. See, here are 
some colored prints of them. 
Almost all have some green, 
shining like metals, but 
there ate rich blues and 
purples, and glowing red 
hues. I cannot fancy any- 
thing so perfect as this rnby 
spot, or this glittering gold- 
en-green, or this melting 
sapphire-blue. And look at 
their crested heads — tho 
frills and rnfls around their 
necks — and their tails, some 
pure white, and pointed 
like a star, some long or 
round and with the richest 
colors imaginable. These 
bright hues are on their 
breasts and tails and heads, 
so that as they dart down, 
they gleam and disappear, 
and then shine out again 
and change their color as 
they move, with the most 
startling and beautiful ef- 
fect." 

" What a funny little one 
this is," said Annie, holding 
up a print ; " he has a crest 
and a beard. And here is 
one with a crown on his 
head, and a breast like a 
burnished shield ; and there 
is a little bird with long 
feathers from his neck." 

"Did you notice the sound, 
the humming of the wings, 
when the humming-bird 
was near you ?" asked their 
uncle. 

" Yes, I have often listen- 
ed to it ; but he whirls away 
so quickly he doesn't give 
one much time to make ob- 
servations," said Johnnie 
with a laugh. " He shoots away , 
like a skyrocket, then presently 
here he is again, pirouetting 
around the honeysuckle like a 
waltzer, and again he is whizzing 
and buzzing away over the far- 
thest flower-beds.' 

" They do not move like other 
birds, and this swift, whirring 
flight secures them so well from 
attack that they are not usually 
timid, and will come neater to 
you than any other bird, some- 
times approaching within a yard 
or two of your face. I often have 



them come to these honeyraokle 
flowers while I am sitting beside 
the window reading or writing, 
and I have several times seen the 
passionate little creature tear the 
flower entirely open with his 
keen, sharp bill if he could not 
get the honey as quickly at he 
wished, and then with an impa- 
tient whirr shoot away in anothw 
direction." 

" It seems as funny as if a fairy 
were in a rage," said Annie. 




HLKKDER SHEAR-TAIL HUMMINO-BIRn. 
SWORD-BILL HUMMINQ-BIRD. 



" Uncle, I should like to see them 
at home and quiet for a little 
while like other birds." 

" I think we ought to go now," 
said Katie, hesitatingly ; " but, 
Uncle Philip, we may come again 
some time, may we not ?" 

" Yes, indeed," he replied with 
a smile. " I shall be glad to see 
you." 

" Oh, thank you. Wo have had 
such a happy time," added Annie, 
with a warm embrace and kiss 4s 
they departed. — IUutt,ated Chrif 
Ua» Weekly. 



#Hi 



gm 



to ae« them 
for a little 

to go now," 

gly; "but, 

7 come a((aiu 

lot r 

replied with 
glad to Bee 

Wo have hi»<i 
dded Annie, 
e and kiss a 
haled Chm- 



i 



YEMA. 

BY RKV. J H DE FOHK8T, OflAKA, 
JAPAN. 

Mnch has been written abont 
the temples of Japan— their idels 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



ish. So he went to the temple of 
his ^od and lublicly offered this 
tempurance pledge. This is his 
prayer for Divine help. 

Now foreigners who visit Ji\- 
paii, of couTBo visit the temples. 




A TEMPKBANCK PLEDOK. 



i;reat and small ; their sweet-toned 
bells; their jolly priests, and their 
ways of worship. But even the 
best books tell us very little about 
the Yema, or sacred pictures, 
that hang in the temple galleries. 
I have spent hours again and 
again in studying these paintings, 
and in learning the meanings of 
them from the chatty worshippers. 
And since they have given me so 
much pleasure, as well as insight 
into the Japanese character, I 
gladly turn showman for a few 
moments, and exhibit some pic- 
tures that were copied for me by 
Mr Yonedau, a Christian. 

The first one is a sake-cup on a 
little tray. Right over the cup is 
a .Tiipansse padlock, locked tight, 
and the key thrown away. The 
two large Chinese characters over 
the cup mean. Respectfully of- 
fered. You see these characters 
on all the temple pictures. At the 
left of the cup are two more char- 
acters meaning, "Sworn off from 
sake." Here then was a poor fel- 
low whose love of strong drink 



They see such pictures as this 
but they cannot interpret them. 
Then some of them write home 
that drunkenness is unseen, al- 
most unknown, in Japan ! Well, 
look at this picture again, and no- 
tice the spots all over it. You 
have heard that the Japanese 
have paper prayers that they chew 
and throw at their gods. Not 
only their gods, but these votive 
pictures also are often covered 
with these spit-ball prayers. 
Among the pilgrims to this temple 
are those who, seeing this locked 
sake-cup, have said, " Ah, this is 
just what I need." And so dozens of 
them have thrown their soft, moist 
prayers into it, and asked for like 
strength from above. A friend 
whom I took to the temple ex- 
pressly to see this picture was so 
taken with the story that, though 
its original value is not over ten 
or fifteen cents, he tried to buy it 
of the priests with the generous 
offer of $2i. But it hongs there 
yet. 
The second is of a man on his 





qf^immi ill _J 


1 i| 


; 


Wm\ 


M 








IL^T^^^w 


?B 




Hh^hH^h 


iilmi™r.JLliii?m^3^ \ 


'«!( 


==8 


^^1 


^^^^.> 


it 


-^^^^^^^ 1^^^^ 


*s 


^^^^^^^^^ « t 



THE OAMBLKB'S BBFOBMATION, 



mm\ 



was conquering him. He had 
tried and tried to be moderate, or to 
l>eatotal abstainer ; but he found 
himself weak, unable to break the 
habit Heknew,a8ev«rydrnnkard 
I everywhere knows, that he 
I must have help, or miserably pern 



knees breaking to pieces some 
dice. He is a gambler. He has 
been drawn gradually into the 
fascinating game, until at last, 
reckless in his plays, he has lost 
everything. He comes to himself 
and sees that he must give up at 



65 V 



once this cursed habit, and, to, dream This hard-working farmer 
make it sure, he offers this picture lies sleeping nndcr his heavy 
of himself to his god. In the origi- 1 comfortabl.', with his head on his 
mil picture his wife and child wooden pillow. In his dream ho 
stand behind him, adding their sees these frisky foxes jumping 
prayers to his that the god will joyfully ucrosshisbed and through 




A BAILORS TIIANK-OFFEBINO. 



hear his vow. 

Sometimes in these votive pic- 
tures of reformation there is a sly 
reservation written on one side, 
" good for five years." And I have 
been told that while the memory 
of former sufiering is keen, and 
the superstitious fear remains, the 
vow will be kept. But as the old 
desire grows strong'er with con- 
tinual temptations, the reformed 
man will sometimes say, " I've 
kept my vow a year : four years 
are left. That will make eight 
years of days, and leave me the 
nights for drinking and gamb- 
ling." 

Wo come next to two pictures 
of thanksgiving. A sailor hashad 
a prosperous voyage. The Rising 
Sun has daily greeted him, and 
favoring breezes have filled his 




the air — their tails out straight 
and their mouths splitting with 
fox-laughter. When the farmer 
wakes up he too will laugh, for the 
fox is the messenger of the god of 
rice and to see a messenger of any 
of the gods is a sign of good luck. 
There are cart-loads of such pic- 
tures in these temples — dreamers 
with monstrous snakes crawling 
around them, dreamers with 
poisonous centipedes in their 
bosoms ! Then instead of wak- 
ing thankful that it wasn't true, as 
we should, they awake glad to 
have been honored with a 
dream of the messengers of 
the gods. And I think, too, 
that these dreamers of beasts and 
reptiles are waking up out of this 
nonsense of ages. They are 
already beginning to laugh at 



THE farmer's dream. 



sails. Ho thinks it a duty and 
privilege to acknowledge the 
favor of his god with this picture 
ofhisjnnk. Theie are thousands of 
these hung in the temples of Ja- 
pan. 

Last of all comes a picture of a 



themselves. And when they 
onto use the reason God has 
given them, their repentance, 
their gratitude, and their desires 
will find a truer and nobles ex- 
pression than by Yema. — Mission- ff I 
ary Hetaid. ' * 



66 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER. 






naturalist Cuvier (rave the name 
of the Megatherum, the ffiaut 
Sloth of the early ages of the 
world. Its skeleton is not as 
large as that of an elephant, it is 
true, but it surpasses in bulk 
those of the hippopotamus and 
rhinoceros, and therefore it is not 
probable that it lived such a 
simply arboreal life as its smaller 
successors, climbing from branch 
to branch, and rocked in their 
leafy cradle by the wind. 

It was, however, so formed as 
to possess every means of self- 
support in its great forest world, 
and also of self-defeuco, though a 
monstrous tiger called the " sabre- 
tooth," on account of its long, 
sharp teeth, was often its assail- 
ant. But the tiger found its 
match even for these in the three 
long, large, curved, sharp-pointed 



and consequently we find him 
possessed of two might v hind 
legs, which were not so long as 
those ot the elephant, but were 
twice as thick and massive, and a 
tail which was sufficiently firm- 
jointed, long, and heavy to form 
with the heavy hind legs a sub- 
stantial tripod which could well 
assist the Megatherium in his 
work. The front limbs, which 
wore used for seizing the tree, 



plex in development, being al- 
most as perfect as the arms and 
hands of man for the purpose for 
which they were designed. 

We can, in imagination, see this 
gigantic animal raised on its power- 
ful hind legs, and tugging, riving, 
and swaying the root-loosened 



AN OLD-FASHIONED ANI- 
MAL. 

BT HISS X. F. MOSBT. 

In the forests of South America, 
ages and ages ago, there lived 
enormous animals which are now 
extinct, and are known only by 
their bones which have been dis- 
covered embedded in the soil. 
But although they lived so long 
ago, and were so different in size 
from the creatures that now pos- 
sess their ancient haunts, there is 
a likeness and a kinship existing 
between them. When the little 
French visitors to the Jardiu du 
Roi (the garden of the king), in 
PuriN, crowd to see the foreign 
animals that are on exhibition 
there, they are filled with amuse- 
ment and wonder at a strange 
quadruped which seems incapa- 
ble of using its four long legs claws v.'hich the great Megather- j tree until it fell with a loud crash, 
either to run or jump, or even ij-ium used in its combats. The its wide-spreading branches tear- 
walk. It looks lazier than a grub ' present ant-eater of South Amo- jing into the soil beneath or rear- 
er a beetle, and its name — the 1 rica has no ot'ier weapons than Jing tlu-niselves still high in the 
Sloth — seems a very appropriate I similar sharp claws, and yet these I air. Then the feast began, and 
title, for it 
only crawls 
along upon 
the earth in a 
weak and 
helpless fash- 
ion, its hands 
and feet, 
which are 
armed with 
sharp claws, 
stretched out 
aimlessly on the ground. 

The trees in South America 
grow^ in the valleys of the great 
rivers in the greenest luxuriance, 
every branch rustling thick with 
leaves, and the trunk buried knee- 
dei'p in long grasses. In the air 
the vines, heavily laden with 
foliage and blossoms, form aerial 
and swaying bridges that throw 
their strong arms from bough to 
bough. Here the diminutive 
.'^loth of to-day has its home, and 
it no longer looks inert or awk- 
ward when it has reached its true 
habitat. This is not on the 

earth's surface, nor on the water's, ! own against the jaguar and the long muscular and flexible 
but in the forest that rises in " the puma. When it has once seized tongue, more like a rope than any- 
aerial ocean." The creature can | a foe, no matter how desperate its ; thing el.se, having the same shape 
neither run nor swim nor fly; but I own hurts or injuries may j as a giriifTe's.^ but twice as big, 
it can climb, and it is indeed a bo, it will cling until death 



if that were true, the Megather- 
ium could escape being crushed 
to death or killed by a blow from 
some of the falling trees Y It now 
appears that, although these ani- 
mals became doubtless trained by 
experience to dexterity in dodg- 
ing such collisions, they did not 
always escape unhurt. In a 
skeleton of the Megatherium dis- 
covered on the banks of the Vi\o 
Platta the skull had two distino 



pulling it roughly to and fro un- fractures, one completely healed, 
til it gave way, and then hauling and the other, a more serious in- 
it down, were powerful and com- jury to the back of the akull, evi 




Gently the cause of the animal's 
death. Each of the scan indica- 
ted a stunning blow, which must 
for a time have completely pros- 
trated the huge creature ; and as 
the first was cured and the last 
had by no means caused instant 
death — since sufficient time had 
elapsed for the bone to begin a 
new growth — neither could nave 
been inflicted by a tiger's paw or 
a hunter's club. Such enemies 
would have finished their work 
while their prey 
lav defenceless. 
The blow waH 
without doubt 
Trom somepassive 
or inanimate 
body.like the fall- 
ing trunk or 
bough of some 
large tree. — Il- 
lustrated Christian 
Weekly. 



SKELETON AND OUTUNE OF A MEQATHERIUM. 



climber par excellence. Each 
limb being terminated by two or 
three long and strong hooks, with 
these it could securely cling to 
the branches, along these it mov- 
ed, often rapidly; there was 
nothing slothful in its arboreal 
mode of progression. Suspended 
always with its head and trunk 
downwards, it so traversed 
every branch and part of the tree 
yielding food by leaf or fruit. In 
that clinging attitude it rested, 
suspending itself to sleep. Amid 
the bou'.fli8 it so lived and bred, 
the mother carrying her suckling 
young securely clinging to her 
neck. 

In this same wild, sylvan coun- 
try of South America there were 
dug lip the fossil remains of some 
enormous animal, to which the 



Near the city 
of Washington 
little gray lizard. s 
are plenty. They 
grow lour or live 
inches long, are 
clean tothetoucli, 
and make amus- 
ingpets. A writer 
for Our Li'</e Oho 
says, " You wi 1 
see them sittini: 
on the walls and 
fences in the sun. 
suffice to enable it to hold its , this was enjoyed by means of the j You can catch them easily, if you 

know how. You must go up to 
them very slowly. If you make 
a quick motion, they are oil. 
When you get near enough, gras|) 
swiftly a little before the lizard'.-* 
nose. If you grasp on the spot 
where he is you will only catch 
the end of his tail. Now a lizard 
drops his tail off as easily as a boy 
loses his jack-knife; so if you 
catch only the lizard's tail, you 
lose the rest of the lizard. . . . 
If you are kind to the lizard, and 
tickle him gently with the end of 
your finger.he will soon be tame 
He will catch flies on the table, 
and will also come and take in- 
sects from your hand." The liz- 
ards in the tropics are green, anil 
golden, and red, and purple, ami 
indeed all colors. They are 
beautiful creatures, and may be 
tamed like their gray cousins in 
Virginia. But sometimes they 
are very large and fierce." 



re- i which could be used to browse 
laxes its fierce and tenacious hold, i upon the leaves at will and bring 



The Megatherium used his 
claws on his hind feet for a dif- 
ferent purpose than war. These 
were limited in number, being 
confined to one sub-compressed, 
but large and sharp-pointed claw 



them easily within reach. The 
lower jaw is formed like a spout, 
hollowed into a long, smooth 
canal, in which the tongue lay, 
and was thrust forward or drawn 
back, gliding to and fro in quest 



on each hind foot, the other toes of I's leafy repast. The Mega- 
having no claws, but terminating i fheruim s teeth were equally as 
in a sort of hoof, which gave the , wpH adapted for the mastication 
animal a heavy but firm tread. 1 of Us vegetable food, grinding it 
The two sharp claws served as "P to a pulp on their cross-ridged 
pickaxes to dig away the soil , surface. 

from the roots of the trees, and so I Dr. Buckland, when he first 
loosen their foundations ; for, iii- heard the description which has 
stead of climbing to ol)tnin his been given already of the Mega. 



food, this giant leaf-devourer up- 
rooted and tore down tho great 
trees on which he was accustom- 
ed to feed. 

Of course, he needed a firm 
base for such a tug and strain, 



thorium's form and habits, urged 
an objection which afterwards 
was the means of furnishing ad- 
ditional proof of its accuracy. 
Doubting the possibility of such 
a mode of feeding, he asked how. 



\\\ 



"Qeniub is eternal patience." 






i)H^- 



III 



\o Megather> 
ing crashed 
a blow from 
u8 ? It now 
h these «ni- 
88 trained by 
ity in dodg- 
heydid not 
lurt. In a 
theriam dis- 
8 of the Uii> 
two dittino 
Btely healed, 
eerious in- 
le akuU, eri- 
the animal's 
car* indica- 

which must 
>let(ily pros- 
tore ; and as 
and the last 
used instant 
nt time had 
to begin a 
r conld naro 
ger's paw or 
ich enemies 

their work 
s their prey 

defenceless. 

blow was 
DTit doubt 
somepassire 
n a n i m a 1 
,like the fall- 

trunk or 
h of some 
tree. — i/- 
tled Christian 
\ly. 



lAR the city 
Washington 
gray lizards 
lenty. They 
r lour or five 
B8 long, arc 

I to the touch, 
mako amus- 
iets. AwriliT 
htr LiHIeOiiis 

"You wi 1 
:hem sittinu- 
le walls and 
tsin the buu. 
easily, if you 
1st go up to 
If you maki' 
ley are oil. 
tiough,gra.s|i 
) the lizard'.s 
on the spot 

II oi\ly cntch 
Now a lizard 
isily as a boy 
; so if you 
d's tail, you 
zard. , . . 
e lizard, and 
Ih the end ol' 
3on be tame. 
n the table, 
md take in- 
I" The liz- 
■e green, ami 

purple, and 
They are 
and may bo 
y cousins in 
itimes they 
Brce." 

al patience." 






ABOUT SPIDBBS. 

The spiders belong \o the great 
family of " Articulata," and in the 
group are called " Arachnida." I 
do not know how long ago this 
niime was given to the spiders, 
but it seems to have come from 
Grecian mythology. Arachne, it 



RKPRINTKD STORIKS. FROM 

I first spun a long thread, and let 
the wind blow it out length-wise, 
in hope it would tind lodgment 
on the shore. After having tried 
this method of escape in vain, find- 
ing the wind not strong enough 
to aid him, ho resorted to another 
ingenious experiment. Olimbing 
to the top of the pole, he com- 



,s satd, was a arecian lady in the ^^ ^^ ^^^^^^ ^ -^.^^^^ Walloon; 

'""*ntS» "rnrZ V« lit !!} ^h"" «^<^^' »>« attached it toth; 
spmnmfr So proud was she of| , ; ^ ^ , ^^t i„to it, and 
nerart tbat she aspired to com.|g„ji^g ^^ too small, constructed a 

larger one. Then seemingly 



poto with the goddess Minerva ; 
but her presumption was punish- 
ed by her being transformed into 
A spider. But though so humili- 
atod, she yet retained her skill, 
niid wove webs of wondrous 
hiMiuty ; and so it comes to pass 
that tne spider family are known 
to naturalists as the Arachnida, or 
" children of Arachne." 

Now if our young readers hap- 
pen to be so far advanced in their 
studies in Natural History as to 
be interested in the classincation 
of the Arachnida, we will briefly 
say that Linnoons and older na- 
turalists used to call the spider an 
"insect." But since Lamarck 
they have been separated into a 
distinct class. They have articu- 
lated skeleton ; usually eight legs, 
consisting of seven joints ; they 
have from two to seven eyes — fix- 
ed, not movable, but placed in 
different parts of the head in the 
different species to accommodate 
their varied habits. They have 
" falces," or mandibles, to seize 
their prey, and maxillae, or what 
might be called a mouth, to 
squeeze and eat them. 

Now we have done the scienti- 
lie. Let us study one or two 
species of the spider But before 
we do that I would like to tell 
you about the " web " 

Most of the Arachnida live by 
catching insects in nets which 
they weave in bushes, on fences, 
in outhouses, and not infrequent- 
ly in our homes. 

This web is a wonder of light- 
ness, elasticity, and strength. It 
is the strongest material of its size 
known It comes from the spin- 
neret, located in the rear of the 
ibdomen of the animal, and is 
composed of thousands of distinct 
threads blended into one. Thii 



satisfied he cut the guy-rope and 
sailed away to land. Is not that 
wonderful ? 

We sometimes call the nets the 
spiders weave in our houses cob- 
webs. This comes from the 
Dutch word for spider, " coppe." 
Good housekeepers don't like to 
acknowledge having seen them 
in the corners of their rooms, but 



rilK "NOHTHKRN MKSSKNG 

like to describe in brief three 
varieties of the Arachnida that 
have always seemed to us very 
interesting specimens of the fam- 
ily. 

First, the Trap-Door Spider. 
" JUt/ifulenittulaiis," I'lmnd not only 
in the West Indies, but in Cali- 
fornia. This spider lives in the 
ground, does not spin iv web for 
catching insects, but clmses and 
captures them upon the ground. 
His home is a marvel of skill. He 
digs a perpendicular hole in the 
earth where there is a slope, so 
that water may not interfere with 
him. He then lines it with a silk- 
en web more beautiful than any 
regal tapestry. He constructs a 
door of earth on the upper side, 
made to look just like the ground 
about it, while on the inner side 
there is the same silken lining and 
hinges of the same material, so 



T 

•In 




THE WEB AND ITS VirTI.Mfl. 



a spider can weave one 



blending accounts for its great in the night, it ought not always 
strength This apparatus and in- , to be a sign of untidiness, 
stinctwere furnished the spider Hogarth, in one of his pictures, re- 
longago,long before men thought presents neglected charity by 
of twisting together many strands sketching a spider-web over the 
of wire to make a strong and ; aperture of the collection-box ; 
pliant rope • These webs are also and one of our modern poets, m 
elastic, and yield to the strain of describing the peace that has 



the wind or "the spider's weight. 
The strands are also covered with 
a viscid humor or paste, that not 
only keops the intersections of the 
web glued fast, but, like birdlime, 
fastens the prey to the meshes 

These webs o*" the spider are not 
only used as nets and air-sieves to 
catch its prey, but sometimes his 
spinnerets afford him the means 
to escape from danger. Seth 
Q-reen, the fish-raiser, tells us of 
an observation of his. He placed 
^ a pole in the middle of a little 
! • pond, and put a spider on it. 

m^ 



peace 
fratricidal 



It 



the 
followed our Iratncidal war, 
weaves a spider's web over the 
cannon's mouth ; and among the 
Jewish legends I read that when 
David entered the cave of Adul- 
1am, a spider quickly wove a 
web across its entrance, that Saul 
passed it by, convinced that the 
fleeing David could not have en- 
tered it for refuge. 

We have in the illustration the 
webs of the common spiders 
with some poor victims of their 
snares vainly endeavoring to ex- 
tricate themselves. We would 



that its lid when raised will fall 
back to its place. From this door 
he "merges at night to search for 
his piey. The lid closes after 
him. Having secured his food, 
he lifts his portal with his strong 
feet, and passing in, the door clos- 
ing after him, he enjoys his meal 
in security. 

Another interesting species is 
the Water Spider, " Ar^/zronefa 
Aqualica." Ho lives in the water, 
and yet is an air-breathing insect. 
Some amphibious animals, like 
the porpoise and seal, though 
they can remain under water for 
a good while, yet are forced to 
the surface every few minutes ; 
but this little fellow can live for 
weeks beneath the water. The 
explanation is curious. He takes 
the air down with him. First, ho 
builds a little gossamer home 
down at the bottom of the pond 



KR." f.7 

between some water-plants • ho 
coats it with glue to make it 
water-tight, leaving an apertnre 
at the bottom for a door. It is as 
yet filled with water. Ho now 
makes a little bag of his web, 
goes to the surface, lills it with 
air, and going down eiiiptii's it in- 
to his house ; it bubbles up to the 
roof and stays then', di-pliiyiiig 
the water. Again and uiiiiin ho 
does this, until ho liii.s an air- 
castle in which ho ciin breathe 
and rear his family, the open 
door beneath keeping tho air 
pure. This home of our veritable 
water nymph resembles aglobule 
of quicksilver. As tho little fel- 
low gets his food from insects 
that live on or in the water, he is 
thus wonderfully provided. 

Another species has alvviiys ex- 
cited our admiration — tho Rait 
Spider, " Dnlitmeiti'S /iinhrin/iis." 
This spider subsists upon the in- 
sects that skiiu upon the surface 
of ponds and (dronins; and while 
his feet are so conslructed that 
ho can run very swiftly for a 
short distance upon the water, he 
cannot entirely live upon it, so ho 
constructs a raft of leaves, lashing 
them together with tho silken 
cords that his spinneret affords, 

I and pushing out from shore, is 
drifted by the winds or currents 
to where his prey is disporting it- 
self. The dead leaves conceal 

\ the spider, tho insects imairining 
no danger, when suddenly tho 
fierce and hungry littliy fellow 
loaves his raft and gives chase ; 
returning with his prey, ho 
leisurely devours it. Oh, how 
wonderful is all this ! It seems 
raoro like reason than instinct. It 
is as if, seeing that leaves fallen 
from tho bushes and trees and 
ffoated out by the wind and cur- 
rents do not frighten the insects 
that sport upon tho water, he 

j uses one, as the sportsmen do our 
sink-boats when wo would ap- 
proach a flock of ducks. But wo 
must not fail to notice how the 
Creator makes every faculty and 
function of his creatures in har- 
monious adaptation to the end of 
their being. Unlike tho web- 
weaviug spider.his feet are formed 
so that ho can run swiftly upon 
the surface of the water, and his 
eyes are so constructed that ho 
can discern his prey at long dis- 
tances, both of which aro neces- 
sary that he may bo able to pro- 
vide for his sustenance. 

There is another lesson. All 
these creatures use their know- 
ledge, skill, and functions in do- 
ing just that, andthatonly, which 
their Creator intended them to do. 
I wonder if we are always found 
using our faculties and powers 

just in those directions in which 
they were wisely intended to be 
employed ? — Il/uslrated Christian 
Weekly. 

As THE night follows tho day, 
so surely and naturally does an 
irreligious and a corrupt man- 
hood or womanhood follow ai' 
irreverent childhood. . - -.- n,., 



JBn.. 



-©e«^ 



AM 



e» 



68 
HOW 



THE OOSPRL 
TO ONO. 

Tho former character of the 
inhabitants ot tho Fiji iHlaiuls 
is too well known to need any 
extended description. Canni- 
Wism was iw part of their re- 
ligion, and to one of their gods 



REPRINTED 
CAME 




CANXIBAL F0KK8. 

every basket of roots offered 
was accompanied by a human 
body. The chiefs sometimes 
killed their inferior wives to 
supply this horrible demand. 

On Ono, one of the smaller 
islands of this group, it is par- 
ticularly interesting to nolo the 
first beginnings of the true re- 
ligion. This island is 150 miles 
from that of Lakemba, to which it 
is tributary. In 1835 it was visited 
by an epidemic, which so dimin- 
ished their numbers as greatly to 
alarm the people. They made 
large offerings of food and pro- 
perty to their gods, and practised 
their religious rites with the 
greatest zeal, but all their efforts 
to stay the ravages of disease were 
unavailing. Just at this time ono 
of the chiefs, Wai, went to Lok- 
emba to carry the customary 
tribute, and wnile there met a 
chief who had visited some of the 
Friendly Islands and had become 
a Christian. From this man VTai 
heard of the true God, though 
little more than that Jehovah was 
the only God, and that all ought 
to worship him, 

Perceiving that there was no 
deliverance through their gods 
from the pestilence, tho Ono chief 
and his companions resolved to 
forsake them and pray to the 
Being of whom they had recently 
heard, and a few others joinod 
them. The late visitors, wnilo at 
Lakemba, had heard something 
ofthe Sabbath, and so dotermined 
that they would sot apart ono day 
in seven for their worship. They 
accordingly prepared their food 
oil tho day previous, dressed in 
their best, and anointed them- 
selves more profusely with oil. 
But when assembled they were 
at a loss how to proceed. They 
had always been accustomed to 
invoke their deities through the 
medium of a priest. In this dil- 
emma they had no other resource 



STORIES. FROM 

He came, and was induced to aid 
them, beginning his prayer some- 
what after this style : " Lord Je- 
hovah, hero are thy people ; they 
worship thee. I turn my back 
npion thoo for the present, and am 
on another tack, worshipping 
another god. But do thou bless 
these thy people ; keep them from 
harm and do them good." Such 
was tho first act of worship ren- 
dered to the Almighty on the far- 
ofl iJand of Ono. 

In 1836 a canoe, having on 
board a number of Christians 
bound for the island of Tonga, 
missed her course, and drifted 
away to an island about fifty 
miles from Ono. Hero they heard 
of the longing for light and help 
at the latter place, and a young 
man, baptized Josiah, who had 
conducted religious services 
during the voyage, hastened 
thither. 

Great was the joy of tho little 
company at Ono on the arrival 
of a teacher. The old priest was 
at once dismissed, and daily 
Josiah led their devotions, in- 
structing them more fully on the 
Sabbath, while some learned to 
pray for themselves. 

By this time their number had 
increased to forty, and they 
set about building a chapel which 
should hold a hundred people. 

By 1839 three other teachers 
had boon sent them, and the num- 
ber of converts had increased to a 
hundred and sixty-eight men and 
a hundred and sixty women. All 
wori> most anxious for instruction, 
and greatly desirous that a mis- 
sionary should visit them and 
administer sacraments and marry 
them with religious rites. • 

Among the directions received 
by tho Wosleyan missionaries in 
referoncc to polygamy was that it 
must not be countenanced. No 



THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



to go, after due training, to preach 
tho gospel in other parts of Fiji. 
Two hundred and twenty-three 
persons wore baptized and sixty- 
six couples married. 

Among tho candidates for ba|>- 
tisin was a young woman named 
Tovo, of the highest rank, who 
had been in infancy betrothed to 
the old king of Lakemba. She 
had now learned to read well — 
wa:4 most active in teaching, in 
visiting tho sick, and in other 
good works. 

The missionary could not bap- 
tize her unless she refused to be 
one of the thirty wives of Tui 
Nayan. On her part she declared 
her firm resolve to die rather than 
fulfil her heathen betrothal. In 
this decision, the chief, her father, 
and all the Christians sustained 
her, and were ready to sulfor any- 
thing rather than give her up. 
With this understanding she was 
baptized — taking the name ol 
Jemima. 

Upon the return of the mission- 
ary, Mr. Calvert, to Lakemba, he 
informed the king that Tovo could 
not now become one of his many 
wives, as she had been baptized. 
Kncouraged, however, by his 
chiefs and the heathen party at 
Ono, ho set about manning a fleet 
of canoes with fighting men to go 
and demand her. Hearing of 
this, Mr. Calvert went to expos- 
tulate with him, but the king re- 
plied that he was going to collect 
tribute — pearl shells, etc, 

"Then why take warriors in- 
stead of sailors?" 

" Oh, the warriors would make 
very good sailors." 

" Ah," replied Mr. Calvert, " so 
say your lips — I know not what 
is in your heart. I love you, 
therefore I warn you. God's 
people are as the apple of his eye. 
On the sea and on all the islands 




FIJI CLUim, SPEAKS, AND PlLIjOWS. 



man or woman living in this state 
should be admitted to church 
membership or even be a candi- 
date. 

In the latter part of this year a 
missionary of Lakemba had 
an opportunity of visiting 
Ono, and found most wonderful 
and cheering progress; the people 
leading blameless lives, the Sab- 
bath observed, schools well at- 
tended, and several young men 
than to send for a heathen priest_ ' offering themselves as teachers. 



between Lakemba and Ono the 
Lord Jehovah reigns supreme. 
Take care what you do." 

For a time the voyage was 
quite prosperous. They stopped 



sending on in advance leveral * 
canoes of deiporadoea to do tho 
king'i bidding incaseof reiintance, 
which, with about a hundred 
souls, were never more heard 
of. 

At length, a favorable breeze 
springing up,the ex pedition moved 
on; but ere long the wind shifted, 
and though they came withinsight 
of Ono they could not reach her. 
Their endeavors were continually 
bafllod. ^)oon all chance of mak- 
ing the island was gone. The 
canoes pitched and labored ter- 
ribly in tho violence of the waves. 
Thus thoy drifted about in great 
fear, well knowing that if they 
escaped the angry billows, they 
might be cast upon some shore 
whore a miseranle fate would 
await them. 

As night came on the king gave 
up all hope. He thought of tho 
warning words of the missionary 
and made up his mind to die ; call- 
ing upon his gods, and promising 
great offerings if he should return 
home iu safety. But thoy 
weathered the gale, and the dawn 
ofthe morning found one of the 
other canoes quite near. Great 
was the delight of the crews at 
mooting, and, the wind being now 
favorable for their homeward 
course, they set sail for Lakemba. 
On arrival, the king begged 
that Mr. Calvert's warning words 
might never follow him again. 
He was henceforth very kind to 
him, thus acknowledging that ho 
regarded hisdoliyerauceas a favor 
of tho missionary's God. Ho oven 
consented to give up the object of 
hisdesire aud accept a gilt instead. 
Accordingly suitable articles werti 
sent him irom Ono, but after hav- 
ing received them, the king re- 
turned an equivocal answer. The 
missionary then sent him fresh 
gifts, but like a king of old his 
heart was hardened. Evil coun- 
sels prevailed, and he intimated 
that Jemima must be brought. 
Nothing now remained for the 
poor girl but compliance or death. 
But her people refused to bring 
her to Lakemba. Then a chief 
was despatched for her, but such 
was the firmness of her Christian 
friends that he had to return with- 
out her ; and tho king, after his 
narrow escape, feared to imperil 
his life again upon the deep on 
such an errand. 

Though there had been no 
missionary settled among them, 
by 1848, tnirteen years from tho 
introduction of Christianity into 
Ono, there were among the con- 
verts nearly fifty whose faith and 
ardentzeal fitted them to carry on 
the work at homo, and to go hrtU 
to plant the gospel on disliiijt 
shores. By the latest accounts wu 
hear thatnolofsthan OOOchUrolu s 



at various islands, but at tho one , may be scon, in which tho truo 
nearest Ono all disguise was | God is reverently and Icringly 
thrown oil', and they wantonly worshipped, 
destroyed food and property to Tnus truly in the Micronesinii 
punish the people for becoming j groups have tlie words of Holy 
Christians before their king. i Writ been verified, "Purely the 

Here, to make sure of a fair , isles shall wait for me. — Iltu,. 
wind, they remained some days. ! Christian Weeicif/. 



s: 



>i^ 



«Hi 



9m 

rnrnl *• ' 



anoe lovernl 
)oii to do thu 
jof reiJHtanco, 
a hundred 
laoro heard 

>rablo breeze 
ulitioii moved 
windahifled, 
uwithiiuighl 
lot roach her. 
■e continually 
auce of mak- 
I gone. Thi' 

labored tur- 
ofthowavo8. 
•out in greal 

that if thoy 
i>illowR, they 

some shoro 

fate would 

he king gavn 
iwght of tho 
) missionary 
1 to die; call- 
id promisiiiir 
boold return 

But thoy 
nd tho dawn 
1 one of the 
lear. Great 
the crews nt 
d being now 

homeward 
3T Lakemba. 
'"? ^>ogged 
rning words 
him again, 
ery kmd to 
^ing that hu 
CO as a favor 
d. lie even 
ho object of 
gilt instead, 
rticles Wert) 



after hav 

king re- 

er. The 

him fresh 

of old his 

il coun- 

intimatod 

brought. 

for the 

or death. 

to bring 

1 a chief 

but such 

Christian 

turn with- 

after his 

imperil 

deep on 



Ev 
1 

> 
3d 



en 



to 



been no 
ng them, 
from thu 
nity into 

the con- 
failh and 

carry on 

go fortli 
1 di.sliiiit 
onnts Wo 
chUrchcH 
the trui' 

lovingly 

roncsinii 

of Holy 

reJy tho 

—lUu.. 



«H9 




REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER.' 



webbed 



purpose 
it during (light as 



|irovidod with immensr^ 
jiint that servo the lamn 
ill sustaining 

il 1)01 tho membrane ol'^tho draco 
('>r flying-lizard). Thoy launch 
tliomselves fearlessly from a 
liraach, their feet hold flat and 
toca stretched apart, and swoop 
down, then rise a few foot, linnlly 
alighting safely at their oxpooiod 
iltistmation. Sonietinies loui' or 
live are bo< n darting awuy, to- 
f.'othor, looking like a lluck ot 
winged frogs or toads. 

In tho sea there are throo flyers 
that really, from the extent of 
I heir flights, dosorve tho name. 
Those of our readers who Imvo 
been at sea, especially in tho 
South, may have soon Ihn com- 
mon flyinfi-fish, with its brilliant 
lilue-and-Bilver body and laco-liko, 
Bheeny wings. From tho crost of 
a blue wave they dart, singly or in 
flocks, fluttering along, rising and 
i'.tUing, turning in curves, and 
rotuming to the water with r 
splash— perhaps to fall a (Motim 
to some watchful honito (or dol- 
phin) that has been closely follow- 
ing them beneath tho wator. 
These privatoors of the soas aro 
their greatest enemies, as thoy 
rise in the air following thorn un- 
der water, and emerging ju.st in 
time to catch the luakles»i llyors 
IIS they descend. The dolphins 
will take leaps of twenty or thirty 
foot in following tho poor flying- 
lish, which, notwithstanding their 
loni? wings and wonderful i)owors, 
often fall victims to thoir tireless 
pursuers. They frequently fly 
aboard vessels at night, perhaps 
iiltracted by the lights, or, it may 
lio, caught up by tho wind from 
I lie crost of some curling wave, 
and carried high in air against the 
sails. 

Tho gurnard, though it has also 
long, wing-like fins, presents 
otherwise a totally different ap- 
pearance. Its head is inclosed in 
iv bony armor, from which project 
two sharp spines. Some of these 
lish are of a rich pink color, while 
others »ro mottled with rod, yel- 
low, and blue, and as they fly 
iilong over the water, and the 
Kunlight falls upon their glittering 
Noales, they seem to glow with a 
(Tolden lustre. With such hard 
Ill-ads, it will not be surprising 
information that they aro dis- 
au'reeable fellows to come in con- 
tact with ; at least so thought a 
.'^ailor who was standing at dusk 
upon the quarter-deck of aressi 1, 
iioar one of the West India islands. 
Suddenly, ho found himself lying 
upon his back, knocked over by 
il monster gnnard that, with a 
score of others, had darted from 
the water, this one striking the 
man fairly in the forehead. The 
frunards are also chased by the 
flolphins, and they are frequently 
H^nx to rise in schools, to escape 
Irom the larger fish, while hover- 
ing above them are watchful gulls 
nud man-of-war birds, ready to 
i>teal them from the jaws of their 
onemiesof tho sea. 

In company with these flying- 



m^^ 



flah may often be aoen curiona I blaspheming His holy name?" 

white bodies, with long arms and i " No, I did not." 

blnik oyps. Thoy are Hying- ' " Then I am afraid yoo norer 

aqunls, •nombors of tho cuttle-Han pray at all ; for no man ran swear 

family, and the famous bait I tho as you do, and yot koop up the 

Nowmundliind cod-fishermen. On habit rfprnyingto God." 

the ItankM tlioy are often soen in Aa wo now rode along he 

vast nIumiIn, and during storms seemed thoughtful, "('oachman, I 

tons of Ihoni are thrown upon tho wish you would pray now," I said. 

shore. When darling Irom wave 1 " Why, what a time to pray, Hir, 

to wave, thoy resemble silvery when a man is driving a conch." 

arrows, often rising and boarding " Yot my friend, God will hear 

shins in thoir headlong flight. Ido ' yuu." 

valuable 



69 I 



and daughter hav« also been 
brought to .Teana, Stop not in 
your good work, sir, of speaking 
to poor sinnuraoa you spoke to ma 
on tnai I'oacn ; but for your re- 
I nrool and instruction I might still 
liiivo boon in Ih broaid road 
which leads to dostruotioii. 



are thoy for 
bait, that 
four or live 
hund r oil 

VOBHols at 

St. I'lorro 
are onifag- 
ed in catch- 
ing thorn 
bymoansof 
jigirors.* 

Many of 
tho squid 
f a m i 1 y 
leave the 
water 
when pur- 
sued. Even 
tho largest 
of them, 
often forty 
or fifty feet 
long, have 
been seen 
to rise ten 
or fifteen 
feet in tho air, and sail away as 
if propelled by some mysterious 
loruo, thoir hideous arms dripping 
and glistening They are certain- 
ly the largest and strangest of the 
flyers without wings — St Niilw 

THE COACHMAN'S PRAYER. 
I had taken, says a gentleman, 
tho box-seat of a stage-coach 
Tho driver soon began to swoar 
in a most fearful manner. "Coach- 
man, do you ever pray ?" I quiet- 
ly said. 




FLYING TRBE-TOAD. 



He was 
some what 
moved at 
the appeal. 
"What 
shall I pray 
for/ h e 
askod, in a 
8 u b u c' 
tone. 

" 1' r a y 
t h e H o 
words ; ' O 
Lord.grant 
me Thy 
Holy Spirit 
for Christ's 
sake, a- 
men.' " Ho 
hesita ted, 
but in a 
momenthe 
re pea tod 
them : and 
then, art my 
request, a 
second and a third time. When 
I arrived at the end of my journey, 
I parted from him, never expect- 
ing to meet him again on earth. 

Some months passed, and being 
in another part of tho country, a 
man looked intently on me, and 
said, with a smile, " Don't you 
know me, sir ?" I replied I did 
not. " Ah, sir, I have much rea- 
son to be thankful that ever I 
know you." 

He then recounted the parti- 
culars of our first meeting, and 




A FLYINO FISH ANU FLVINO SQUIDfl. 



He seemed displeased, and, 
whipping the horses, he sat as il 
he wished not to reply to me. I 
repeated the question. " If you 
want to know," said he " some- 
times I go to church on a Sun- 
day ; I suppose I pray then, don't 

ir 

" Did you pray this morning 
that God would keep you from 

'A]linterlimsdebT(un>ln«>larg*namber 
oC Sih-hookt togtlhvr In * Iwll, polnMoutwud. 



added, " I bless God I ever 
travelled with you. Tho prayer 
you taught me on that coach-box 
I believe was answered. I saw 
myself a lost and ruined sinner; 
but now I humbly hope, through 
the blooil that cleauseth from ail 
sin, and by tho power of the 
Holy Spirit, I am a converted 
man." 

After some explanation, he 
went on to say, " Both my wife 



DOING Til INGM WELL. 

" There aaul Harry, throwing 
down the s "e-i,ruah; "there ! 
that'll do. My shoos don't look 
vory bright, but no matter. Who 
caroN '." 

" Whatever is worth doing is 
worth doing well," .said his father, 
who had hoard the boy's careless 
speech. 

Harry blushed, when his father 
continued : 

"My boy, your shoes look 
wretchedly. Pii k up tho brush 
and make them shine when 
you have finished come into tho 
nouMo." 

As soon as Harry appeared 
with his well-polished shoes his 
fathor said ; 

"I have a little story fo tell you. 
I oiieo knew a poor boy whose 
mother taught him tho ))r verb 
which I repeated to yoi a few 
minutes ago. This boy went ou 
to servico in n gontlema sfi<mily, 
and he took puins to d every- 
thing well, no matter h w unim- 
portant it seemed. His employer 
was pleased, and t"Ok him into 
his shop. He did his work well 
there, nnd when sent on errands 
he wont quickly and was soon 
back in hi.s place. So he advanced 
from slop to step until he became 
a dork, and (hon a partner in the 
businoKs. Ho is now a rich man, 
and anxious that his son, Harry, 
should loam to practise the rule 
which made him prosper." 

" Why, papa, wore you a i>oor 
boy once ?" asked Harry. 

" Yes, my son — i-o poor that I 
had to go out to service,and black 
boots, and wait at table, and do 
any menial service which was re- 
quired of me. By doing little 
things well, I was soon trusted 
with more important ones.- Young 
Reaper. 



ilio loveliest, sweetest 
and the 



" Humility 

flower 
That bloomed in Eden, 

first that died. 
Hath rarely blossomed since on 

mortal soil. 
It is so frail, so delicate a thins;. 
It doth not bear to look upon itself. 
And he who ventures to esteem 

it his 
Proves by that single thought ho 

hath it not." 



God never promised us happi- 
ness here in any perfect form ; and 
they who complain most of its 
absence aro commonly tLose who 
have least deserved it, ar.d havo 
done least to secure it foi them- 
selves and to provide it for others. 
— George Batchelor, 



m^ 



I 



70 
RMrEUOR AND 

III tho i^rny of an oitrly morn- 
in^r. (luring the rpif^n of good 
Juieph II. ol Auatritt, n NtrnnKc 
dci'iin occnrrod in one of thi' 
atriH'ti of thi< (>M i;ity of I'rcuhurg. 
Wo can forgivM hiiilory iiiiich of 
ilN dry dutail and Htill formality 
whiMi it bIbo records for uh heart- 
ti)uchiii)f ini'idontH of rt>nl lifi>liku 
thislhul we have hero to tell. 

Tho iit'urly Hiloiit Ntrt>ot tiankod 
by its two rows of tall hoUMOM, 
most of the hIindB and BhntliTN 
Htill chming tho windows at tluit 
early hour, was beinj? swept liy a 
gaiiir III t'onvictH brought euoh 
morning through the priNon 
gates for tho purpose. In tho 
line of prisoners was an old 
man whoso hair and beard 
were white as silver, and 
whoso ugly uniform did not 
wholly hide a certain stateli- 
iiess of bearing, which ho, 
however, did not allow to 
hinder his work. Rut in spite 
of his prepossesBing look and 
manner, it was to be noticed 
that only he of all his wretch- 
ed companions dragged at his 
leg a chain, weighted by a 
heavy bullet. Yet it seemed 
impossible to believe that 
he excelled in crime the 
repulsive - looking wretches 
about him. 

As the work of cleaning the 
street progressed, tho tho- 
roughfare, in spite ol the 
early hour, came at last to 
have one passer-by. A tall, 
olileily man, very plainly 
dressed, but wearing a kind 
of uniform, advanced along 
0110 of the pavements, and as 
he looked at the gang of 
sweepers his eye (juickly 
singled out the old prisoner. 
This observer seemed soon to 
notice that although tho 
white-haired, aged man, in 
spite of having the chain and 
ball to drag, managed by sheer 
exertion to keep up with the 
others in his work, the over- 
seer was nearly always shout- 
ing at him in anger and find- 
iiiif fault without cause. Tho 
spectator stepped into tho 
road to the old man's side 

" What," ho asked, " is your 
orime, that you aro treated in 
this way ?" 

The old prisoner, at the 
sound ol a voice which had 
in it a tone of pity, looked up and 
stood still, resting his broom up- 
on the stones. It was a terrible 
story of persecution and cruelty 
that he had to tell. Ho belonged 
to a distant province, and his po- 
sition there answered to the class 
ill England called " yeonion," he 
having been owner of a small 
property of his own. But, most 
unfortunately for him, the farm 
lay on the skirt of the great estate 

of Count , and this nobleman 

had fixed an envious eye upon its 

scanty fields, as King Ahab long 

before did on Naboth's vineyard. 

[ Their owner, prizing the spot as 



,rfS*e- 



ItKIMilNTKI) STDKIKS 
PRISONER. 



FHOM TIIK 'NOKTIIKUN MKSSKNCKH 



having been the homo of his fore- prisoner, "is my history." 
fathers, relused lo sell it to thoi " lint how < an thin norientition 
count. From that hour began be poNRible?" asked nil sympa- 
his porsecntion. One leu.il pro- thixing listener, "why is your 
cfess was served upon him after oraperor not informed of it /" 
another, costs being run up at " Oh," sighed tho old man, get- 
every stage. In tho end he was ting his broom again into motion, 
fairly ruined, and was forced to " the emperor is far away ; and 



agree to sell ihu farm to the ra- 
pacions nobleman, but ho bar- 
gained that ho was to remain in 
the house for one year more, tine 
day soon after this be was stand- 
ing at his gate, deep in griet at 
tho prospect. A wounded hare 
unexpectedly ran bv, and, with- 
out thinking what he was doing, 
ho instinctively raised his sticK 



besides, in aijuarrel with a no'ble- 
man a poor manlike raysoll must 
be in the wrong." 

" I will see the governor of 
your prison," was tne next re- 
mark. 

" Nay, nay, sir," tho prisoner 
hastened to say in a trembling 
voice ; " pray, do not try to inter- 
fere in my favor. A person once' 




DRAWING LESSON. 
Oatllna DrftWlDg by HnrrlloD Weir, u a drawlns leuon tor the voans. 



and put the poor creature out of 
its pain. At that moment the 
count's servants came up and ar- 
rested him on tho spot, and al- 
though li<! had not laid a finger 
upon the hare he was taken to 
prison. There he lay for six 
months before ho was tried, and 
when he was placed before the 
judire the inlluenco of the wicked 
count secured his being sentenced 
to two years' imprisonment. In 
the meantime his wife and chil- 
dren wore turned out of the 
house and plunged into utter 
poverty. 

" That, sir," concluded the aged 



I did sc, and, as the result, I sufTor- 
ed fifty lashes, and have to drag 
this heavy chain. Do not speak 
for me, or I shall suffer for it." 

Another voice now broke in, 
speaking in loud, harsh tones. 
"There you are again, you lazy 
fellow, chattering away your time 
instead of working. Have you 
tbund another soft-hearted fool to 
listen to your whining ? Do you 
wish another fifty lashes, and a 
chain and bullet for your other 
leg?" 

The brutal speaker was the 
overseer, and ho raised his stick 
to strike the old man. But the 



SH» 

? 

gentlnman parried the blow with «• 
his walking nane, sending the 
truncheon iiying. 

"tiiirah!" oxolaiined the fari- 
ous overseer, " I will arrest you 
for daring to interfere with an of- 
ficial. You are n prisoner, sirrah !" 
Leisurely tho stranger unbnt- 
toned his surtout, discloaing to 
low a glittering star upon his 
breast. It was the Emperor 
.I'lseph himself. He was accus- 
tomed, when travelling, to walk 
out alone, early and late, seeing 
things with hi* own eyes. 

" Mercy ! mercy !" cried the 
terror-stricken overseer, faliing 
upon his kneei. 

" Away !" replied the empe- 
ror. " Lead me thii moment 
to the governor " 

The governor sank into a 
panic atill worse than that of 
the overseer on hearing that 
the emperor had entered the 
gaol. He, however, stammer- 
ed out that the blame rested 
with the judge, who was a 
friend of the count. 

" O great God above, what 
villainy !" exclaimed the 
emperor. " But woe be to 
him who now injures a hair 
of that old man." 

Hurrying back to his castle, 
the emperor ordered the 
judge to ho summoned before 
nim. The result was that the 
judge was put into prison, 
where he first of all received 
fifty lashes, answering to 
those he bad, by his unjust 
sentence, inflicted on the old 
man; next, the chain and 
cannon-ball were transferred 
from the innocent prisoner's 
leg to his own, after which 
he was made to clean the 
streets of Presburg like other 
convicts. And among his 
companions in this task ho 
soon found out tho ex-gover- 
nor of the prison and the ex- 
overseer ; the latter of whom 
now found the stick he had 
so mercilessly ill-used often 
coming down upon his own 
back. 

Nor did the good emperor 
stop here in doing justice ; he 
sent for the liberated old man, 
and thus addressed him : 

" I will make you the gov- 
ernor of the gaol, believing 
that you, who have sufTered 
the barbarous cruelties ot 
persecution, will show humanity 
to the prisoners under you. 
Farewell 1 Collect your family 
around you, and may God bless 
you !" 

Before tho amazed old man 
could thank the just, God-fearing 
emperor, the door of the apart- 
ment had closed upon him. — Day 
of Rest. 

^ $oblouethacheer-f 
^ ful giuer. J 



2 Cor. 9 : ' 



St 



r* 



,. i! 



FRANK'S SKCURITY. 

" llov Wanted." That wa« 
wlmt wni written on a little dip 
ol papor and pMteil np in the 
wIikIuw of Mr. Robinion'a gro- 
I ury •lid (Iryr-goodi itore. 

The liitie tign hang there un- 
iliaturbud Tor several dayi; not 
liouiiuie there were no applicants 
lor Ihu position, for half the boys 
in the place were anxious to gut 
it, but because Mr. Robinson wa» 
Nuch u hard man to suit. 

He required the most nnexcep- 
tiunable rel'erencos, as well as 
ample security for the boy's 
hont-sty, and so, though a great 
many hoys went in his store to 
inquiit' about the situation, 
none of them wore able to 
iintisl'y ail the requirements. 
Frank Birch saw the 
little slip of paper one 
blight Saturday morning 
when he bad come into 
town to do some errands for 
his mother, and his heart 
Kave a great bound of de- 
light when he saw the 
words on it. Perhaps he 
could get the place, nnd 
what a grand thing that 
would oe ! Everybody 
know that a boy was very 
fortunate who got a position 
in Mr. Uobiitson's store, for 
iilthouffh thoro was plenty 
of hard work, yet the wages 
wero very good and Mr. 
Robinson was not a hard 
master. 

Frank had been wanting 
to earn some money so 
much. If he could onlv get 
this place, what a help it 
would be to his mother. 
He felt quite sure that she 
would let him give up 
Hchool, for he could study 
in the evenings after his 
day's work was done, and 
then she need not work so 
hard day after day if he 
could earn some money. 

" Well, my boy, what can 
I do for you ?" asked Mr. 
Robinson, laying his paper 
down on his Knee and look- 
ing over his spectacles at 
Frank as he entered the 
store. 

" I saw in the window 
that you wanted a boy, and 
please sir, wouldn't I do?" 

" I want an honest boy, 
one that can be trusted to 
do what he is told, whether anv 
one is watching him or not, and, 
that will be as faithful to my in- 
terests as he would be to his own. 
Are you that sort of ahoy ?" asked 
Mr. Robinson. 

" I hope I am," answered Frank 
modestly, 

" Well, I hope you are too, for 
then we shall suit each other very 
well," answered Mr. Robinson. 

Frank's heart was very light, for 
now he felt sure of a trial at least; 
but Mr. Robinson's ^ext words 
dispelled his hopes. 

''Now, what references and se- 
curity can you give me ?" 
"Security?" said Frank, not 



KKI'KINTKI) STOKIKS, KKO.M TIIK 

what Mr 



NOUTIIKKN MESSKNdKR. 



71 



quite understanding 
Itobiniuii meant. 

" Yts ; what friend hnve you 
who will place in my hands a cer- 
tain sum of money as security for 
your honesty. ! will return it at 
the end of a year.for by that time I 
shall know pretty well whether 
you are honest or not." 

Frank's (ace clouded over 
with disappointment. " I am 
afraid I couldn't give any secu- 
rity," he said sadly. " How much 
would you want, sir?" 

Mr. Kobinson named the sum. 

Frank shook his head. 
" Couldn't you take me without 
it, sir," h« aakad. 



a I'nvor from. Ho the little 
sign atill hung in the win- 
dow, and people noticed it 
and wondered how it wn* that 
Mr. Kobinson couldn't get a boy 
when boys wanting work were 
HO plenty and good places so few. 

Mr. Robinson was in no hurry, 
however, " The right boy will 
come along after n while," ho 
would say to himself cheerfully 
as he helped the clerk take down 
the shutters and open the store 
every morning. 

Tht next Friday aflernooa 
Frank was busily disentangling 
his fishing-lines and preparing for 
a grand fishing excursion on the 




"YOU sha'n't lay a finoer on these cherries." 



" No," answered Mr. Robinson 
decidedly, taking up his paper 
again. " I used to lose a good 
deal by taking boys just on refer- 
ences. People will often give a 
boy a good reference aud say he 
is honest when they know very 
little about his character; but 
when they are willing to go se- 
curity for him, then I feel pretty 
sure that the boy is honest and 
that I am c 'fe in taking him." 

Frank wtot slowly out of the 
store. He ku^" that there was 
no hope of gettir.f the position 
now, for his mother had no 
money, and he had no friends 
that he could venture to ask such 



then he answered chMrfully. 
" All right, mother, I suppose 
I'll have to pick them, as the old 
lady is in such a bad way about 
them. I may as well gut about 
it at onoe or I wont bu through 
before dark ;" and he began to put 
away his tishing-lines. 

"That's a good boy," said his 
mother approvingly, u Prank 
started off whistling as merrily as 
if he had not just given up a long 
anticipated pleasure. The poor 
old woman's joy and gratitude 
when she found that her cherries 
would go to market the next day 
nearly repaid him for his self- 
denial. The tree was a large one, 
and though ho worked as 
fast as he could, he did not 
have time tn Rtrip it of its 
nontents belore dark He 
finished picking the cher- 
ries early the next morning, 
and was soon on his way to 
town with the fruit, which 
vas put in panniers or large 
oaskets. 

It WHS a beautiful morn- 
ing, and Frank could not 
help thinking of his intend- 
ed excursion. He wonder- 
ed how far the boys had 
gone on their way, and 
what sport they would 
have. 

He did not regret his 
kind act, however, but walk- 
ed along whiHtling cheerily, 
and now and then giving 
Dick, the little donkey that 
a kind-hearted neighbor had 
loaned for the day, an en- 
couraging pat or word. 

" Halloa, Frank! Where 
are you bound for now?" 
asked a voice, and Frank, 
looking around for the 
speaker, saw a boy sit- 
ting under the hedge ex- 
amining the contents of a 
bird's nest which he had 
just taken from the tree be- 
side him. 

" I'm going in to town," 
answered Frank, recogniz- 
ing the boy as Bob Morris, 
one of the worst boys in the 
neighborhood, a boy whom 
the good shunned and even 
the ill-disposed feared. 

"What have you got in 
those baskets ?" asked Bob, 
tossing the bird's nest to 
one side and walking to- 
wards Frank. " Oh, 



you ve 

next day, when his mother en- 1 got cherries," he exclaimed, as he 
tered the room. I caught a glimpse of the fruit 

" Frank," she said, "would you showing through the cover of the 



mind giving up your excursion 
to-morrow ?" 

"Oh, I couldn't !" exclaimed 
Frank. " Why mother, what is 
there for me to do ?" 

"Old Mrs. Wilson's grandson 
is sick, and he promised to gather 
her cherries this afternoon for her 
and take them to market to-mor- 
low. They are to ripe to put off 
picking them, and she is in great 
trouble about them. I told her I 
thought you would be willing to 
do it for her." 

Frank tieiiitated for a moment ; 



basket. 

" I'm glad you came along this 
way, for I'm awfixlly dry, and 
some of those cherries will just fix 
me up," and he extended his hand 
towatds the basket. 

" You can't have any of those ; 
they are not mine to give you," 
said Frank firmly, standing in 
front of his charge. 

" Well, I don't care whetb-r 
they're yours or not," answer^a 
Bob roughly. " I'm going to 
have some of them any way, so 
just stand aside." 



ii4^ 




AN^ 



-«Hi 



72 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NOKTHERN MESSENGER." 



iSOMKTHINa ABOUT DUCKS. 

Duck lifuisnot one long dreim 
of bliss, a time to waddle, quack 
and pipe ; no,indoed,8orrowE enter 
into their lowly nests among 
reeds and rushes as keenly as in- 
to more airy, elevated homes 
among our feathered friends, 
The red-tailed hawk stops not to 
admire the varied tints or grace- 
ful T?ovementof the Pintail duck, 
neither is it of any moment in 
his eyes that Anas Acuta indicates 
a certain aristocracy of family, 
by carrying as 
erectly as pos- 
sible the sharp- 
ie -defined and 
delicately- 
painted tail. 
All these beau- 
ties are as no- 
thing : hunger 
to be appeased 
i s the great 
question, and 
to this the 
strong- winged 
lirigand of the 
skier, addresses 
himself with 
undisguised in- 
tent. The dunk- 
lings by the 
brook-side, ten- 
derly s h e 1- 
tered in their 
sedge-crowned 
home, must 
breast the tide 
oflifeunhelped 
by mother- 
love, must 
ceaselessly 
q'.iack on, un- 
comforted h y 
motherly re- 
sponses. 

The world is 
full of duck 
cousins ; the 
family is a 
well - known 
a n d favorite 
one, and stories 
of their beauty 
and faithful- 
ness are not 
wanting. 

In a greiit 
city of the Ce- 
lestial Empire 
once dwelt a 
happy dunk 
I'amiiy. () \ e 
night pater fa- 
ni i I i a s was 
stolen, and in 
her lonely 

home Madam Dui'k refused nil 
comfort ; an obsequious raller, 
ollering tender attention;!, was in- 
dignantly repulsed ; most unex- 
liectedly the lost one returned, 
and was received by his grieving 
mate with every demonstration 
ol delight. It would seem ns if 
tlie little du( k-mother gave in- 
formation concerning the intrud- 
ing suitor, for her partner flew 
ui>on him with rage, tore out his 
, eyes, and so wouirded him that 
he soon lay dead. 



These were Mandarin ducks, I "summer-duck" for its chiefest This extensive family of water- 
so called on account ot their beau- ! adornment, and "among other i birds is represented in our coun- 
ty and remarkable conjugal tideli- gaudy feathers wi.h which our try by more than thirty species, 
ty. They are often carried in ^ Western tribes Tnament the cal- To catch them is often a diffi- 
■vedding processions in China. 1 umet, or pipe of peace, the skin , cult matter ; but in marshes where 

'T'he Chinese are fond of laud- ' of the head and nock of this beau- [ they congregate at low water, a 
ingL'ieof this family, now ex-!til'ul bird is often used to cover tight hogshead is sunk, tufts of 
tinct — having passed awny, it is ^ the stem ;" and so gentle is the long, coarse grass, reeds, and 
said, in the halcyon days ol Con- pretty creature in its woodland sedge are arranged with care 



LI 



fucins; and wonderfully en- 
dowed the creature must have 
been, for the legend tells us that 
"it would not peck or injure living 
insects, nor tread on growing 
herbs ; that it had the throat of a 




AN EPICURE HUNOUy FOR DUCK 



swallow, the bill of a fowl, the 
neck of a snake, the tail of a lish, 
the forehead of a crane, the crovvn 
of a Mandarin duck, the stripes 
of a dragon, and the vaulted biii;K 
of a tortoise; that the feathers had 
five colors, named for the live 
cardinal virtues : that it was five 
cubits high, hnving the tail gra- 
duated like Pandean pipes ; and 
that its song had live modula- 
tions." 

Among Indians, royalty itself 
disdains not the plumage of the 



haunts that a few affectionate ' over the upper edge so as to ap- 
words crv'i effectually tame it. pear like a natural growth ; then 

Another family of cousins, the | a sportsman takes refuge within 
Tadorna Vuljmnser of the Orkney the hug« barrel, and has a rare 
Islands, have fashions of their j chance for collecting the unsus- 
own touching the courtesies of pecting creatures In China the 

sportsman cov- 
ers his head 
with a sort of 
gr a 8 s-m a d e 
hood, and from 
" eye-holes " is 
able to detect 
and, almost at 
leisure, to en- 
trap many of 
tiiese simple- 
hearted birds. 

Decoy ^ucke, 
made of wood 
and painted 
a r 3 success- 
fully used ill 
our own coun- 
try. Lead is 
nailed to ■■ho 
bottom, so that 
they will float 
easily; these 
gliding over 
the water, at- 
tract the living 
sailers, who, 
im a gi n i n g 
Ih (! m 8 e 1 V e s 
surrounded by 
attentive rela- 
tives, alight, 
and at once be- 
come a prey to 
cruel strategy ! 
The " Pi n- 
tail duck" of 
our picture, is 
noted for its 
delicate, slen- 
der neck, is of 
a social turn, 
and has richly 
variegr. ted 
plumage ; it is 
a bird of rapid 
flight, and its 
tones are softer 
and sweeter 
than some 
others of its 
kin. They 
are fond o f 
beech-nuts, but 
in the spring 



society. They, it seems, wisn 
never to be "at home" to disagree- 
able guests, and if by chance steps 
are heard near its nest where the 
baby-ducks lie sleeping. Madam 
makes pretence of sufl'ering from 
a broken wing, waddling off with 
most distressing indic-.'ieir; of 
pain, trailing t sup'.., -fl ".- 
Jured member on th.; ^ o-.iiul. 
After the intruder has iol'.owed 
for some time, she as suddenly 
takes to flight, leaving the outwit- 
ted follower gaping with wonder. 



gladly feast upon tadpoles, while 
lor autumn and winter fare they 
seek mice and insects. — Illus. 
Chris. Week/ 1/. 



•' After the ■ toil and trouble, 

cometh the joy and rest ; 
After the ' weary conflict,' peace 

on the Saviour's breast; 
After the ' blightand sorrow,' the 

glory of life and love ; 
After the ' perilous journey,' the 

Father's hoate above," 



iHH^ 



^<4a) 



m^ 

* LINES ON GIVING. 

The sun gives ever ; so tho earth — 
What it can give, so much 'tis 

worth ; 
The ocean gives in inony ways — 
Gives paths, gives iishes, rivers, 

bays : 
So, too, the air, it gives us breath — 
Whjn it stops giving, comes in 
death. 
Give, give, bo always giving; 
Who gives not, is not living. 
The more you give. 
The more you live. 

God's love hath in us wealth up- 
heaped ; 
Only by giving is it reaped. 
The body withers, and the mind. 
It' pent in by a selfish rind. 
Give strength, give thought, give 

deed, give pelf. 
Give love, give tears, and give 
thyself. 
Give, give, be always giving, 
Who giveu not is not living. 
The more we live, 
The more wo give. 

Anon. 

WILLIAM WILBERFORCE. 

Who has not road " Uncle 
Tom's "Cabin," and who could 
listen with at tears to the tale of 
tho sufferings of the poor negro 
slaves in the plantations of the 
south. One hundred years ago 
the slave trade was carried on 
not only bv the United States, 
but by England and many of the 
other nations of Europe. William 
Wilberforco was born at Hull, 
Kiigland in 1759 and at a very 
early age became interested in the 
subject of slavery. While still 
atschof! he wrote a letter to a 
newtpape. published in York 
stronglv co.-'iemning " the odious 
traffic in human ilesh." At the 
age 01 twenty-ono ho entered par- 
a. jnt and about seven years 
afterward a society was formed in 
Loiuion composed almost entirely 
of Quakers the object of which 
was to prevent iny slaves being 
brought from Africa and sold in 
the British colonies. The suffer- 
ings of the negroes in the ships 
while crossing the Atlantic wore 
liorrible. They wore crowded 
down ill the dark hold of tht; ves- 
M'l and did not receive half the 
I'are that would have been given 
to cattle. A bill was passed 
regulating the number that each 
KJiip should carry, but little atten- 
tion wu.s paid to it. Then a bill 
was passed forbidding any British 
subject to engage in the trade, 
but it was still curried on under 
lover of the Spanish or Portuguese 
flag, The slaves wen- treated 
more cruelly than ever Often 
when a slave ship w.is being pur- 
sued, and in danger of being cap- 
tured, tho whole cargo of slaves 
would bo thrown into tho sea. 
In 1811 a law was passed by which 
any person found engaged in tho 
slavo trado would be imprisoned 
from throo to five years with 
h;ird labor, or transported for 
foarteoii years. Thirteen years 

WH^ 



REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER. 



afterward a bill was passed de- 
claring the slave trade to be 
piracy and as such punisl^able by 
death, but in 1837 this was altered 
and the penalty became transpor- 
tation for life. 

But there was still more work 
to be done. Although no one 
was allowed to bring any more 
slaves from Africa, there were a 
vast number of them already in 
the colonies, And the next step 
was to set these free. About 1825 
Mr. Wilberforce through failing 
health had to retire from Parlia- 
ment, but the work still went on. 
In 1833 a bill was passed making 
the slaves free, but providing that 
they should be apprenticed for 
twelve years to their former 
masiors, and out of their earnings 
to pa; a sum for their release. 
But this was not approved and 
it was at last determined that 
they should be apprenticed for 
only six years, and that the Gov- 
ernment should pay to the slave 
owners in return for the loss they 
sustained tho sum of X20,000,000. 



bad marks, and tho keeping in, 
and the teacher's reproof," said 
tho mother very sorrowfully. 
" Milly, why are you so often 
troublesome at school , you are a 
good girl at home." 

" I hate rules," said Milly. open- 
ing her blue eyes v y wide. 

" So do the Co.ivicts in the great 
stone prison, where papa goes on 
Sundays to teach the Bible, Milly. 
One of them said last Sunday 
afternoon, that if the law hadn't 
been so strict he wouldn't have 
broken it. It is hating rules 
which has brought m3ftt of those 
poor men to their gloomy cells." 

Milly looked serious. She had 
never thought of comparing her- 
self with the prisoners. 

" Unless we keep rules, dear, 
and love to keep them, we are 
always unhappy. Only those 
people who learn to mind, ever 
become fit to command. By-and- 
by, if you overcome this opposi- 
tion to law, you will find that the 
law and you are so friendly, that 
you will never think about it at 





WILLIAM WILBERFORCE 



The health of Mr. Wilberforce 
failed fast, and on the 29th of 
.Tuly 1833, just three days alter 
the Emancipation Bill was passed 
he died, and was buried in West- 
minster Abbey. 

MILLY'S HARD PLACE. 

" Mamma," said Milly, coming 
in from school with a flushed face, 
and eyes which bore the traces of 
tears, " I wish you'd let mo leave 
Miss Mathew's school. I'vo been 
kept in again, and my diary is 
disgraceful. Miss Susie Mathews 
says she's ashamed of me." 

Mamma put down the work she 
was busy with and gathered her 
little lirl into her lap. 

" What have you done that is 
naughty to-day ?" she said tender- 
ly- 

" O," said Milly sobbing, " I 
whispered in my g'ography class, 
and I wrote Mary Haywood a 
note, and when I missed my gram- 
mar lesson I pouted, and said I 
didn't care." 

"So my little girl deserved the 



all. In the meantime you have 
some hard places before you, and 
the best way is to try to overcome 
their difficulties." 
" Will you help me, mamma ? " 
" Surely I will, my child ; but 
there is One stronger than I. and 
you must seek his aid." 

Together the mother and child 
knelt in the twilight, praying to 
Jesus for pardon and peace. Milly 
rose from her knees, feeling that 
though she had done wrong, the 
Lord would help her to do better. 
— Christian Inlelligemef. 



DOGS 



IN GERMAN 
MENTS. 



KEGI- 



Dogs are tolerated in German 
regiments, though they are usual- 
ly the properly of officers, who 
are naturally responsible for their 
good behavior. At least one Ger- 
man regiment, moreover, belong- 
ing to tho First or East Prussian 
Army Corps, used during tne 
war of 1870-71, to be preceded, 
whenever the band accompanied 
it, by a dog of solemn and shaggy 



appearance, who dragged the big 
drum after him. This strange 
animal, however, had not been 
recruited in the ordinary manner; 
and at that time he already seemed 
to have seen enough service to 
entitle him to honorable retire- 
ment. He had begun his military 
career in the service of Austria, 
where tho big drum was in his 
time harnessed to a moderately- 
sized dog in every military band ; 
and ho was captured by tho East 
frussian regiment at the battle of 
Sadowa. Perhaps because dogs 
form no recognized part of the 
Prussian military forces he had 
never been exchanged , though it 
is difficult to understand on what 
principle he could have been 
compelled, after the cessation of 
hostilities, to remain in tho ranks 
of the enemy. This dog in any 
case, marched with the troops of 
General Nanteuffel from the east 
of Prussia to the west coast of 
France ; and if he is now dead he 
basin all probability had a monu- 
ment erected to his memory. — St. 
James Gazette 



AURORA BOREALIS 

Gassendi, a French philosopher, 
contemporary of Lord Bacon, first 
arave the classical name of Aurora 
Borealis Others have called it 
Aurora Polaris, for there is also an 
Aurora Australis, similar phenom- 
ena being witnessed in the Ant- 
arctic regions The Portuguese 
navigator, D'Ulloa, is the first who 
describes the Southern Lights, 
about 1743 ; and Captain Cook also 
beheld them in 1777. Sir James 
Ross, in his famous Antarct''; ex- 
ploring expedition, vv'itnessed 
magnificent displays. 

Many of the accounts in old 
chronicles and histories, describ- 
ing armies in the sky meeting and 
contending w'th fiery spears and 
datts, sometimes attended with 
waves of blood, can only refer to 
unusual displavs of th.) Aurora 
Borealis. Such references are 
frequent in the meditcval chroni- 
cles. But before those days, Aris- 
totle, Pliny, and other classical 
writers, alluded to the same mys- 
terious lights. They were usual- 
ly regarded as portents of evil 
foreboding. But the Shetland 
people called them "The Merry 
Dancers. ' The North American 
Indians thought they were tho 
spirits of their departed people 
roaming throngh the spirit-world. 
— Neiv York Observer. 
•^■- 

Ali. Which Gou Asks of boys 
and girls i.s that they be boy and 
sjirl Christians, and that is all 
which we have any right to ask, 
and it also is something which we 
have a right to expect and labor 
for, — Ciiiisireiiiilionalist. 

We Havk Nkver Known Init 
one ibing that has been p>tential 
enough to bring all the railways 
01 the country to terms -in fact 
to an unconditional surrender. 
This thinn' is— tobacco smoke. — 
Mellnulist PnilestanI, 



t 



74 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER 



THE CHIPMGNK.' 

Whf^u Noll came homo irom 
school one day, she found her fa- 
vorite kitten with a little chip- 
monk in her mouth. It was the 
chipmonk wh^ih had lived in the 
hollow tree in the garden. He 
had paid flying visits to the piaz- 
za nil summer, and was almost as 
well known as the kitten herself. 
It was plain that puss had mis- 
taken him for a mouse. Nell 
gave chase across the garden, in 



among the tangle of rose-bushesj »*'»^™ f°'" y°^'i The boy shook 



where the kitten fled with her 
booty. She found it hard to fol- 
low, though she could see the 
bright eyes of the chipmonk. They 
were full of pain and pleading, as 
if he begged her to take his side. 

At last Puss was caught and 
shaken till she dropped the chip- 
monk. He could only limp away 
and hide himself. 

Nell hoped his friends would 
take care of him. But at night 
the poor, hurt fellow hobbled to- 
ward th« piazza, and seemed to 
want comfort. He was too feeble 
to keep himself from the cat's 
paw, if she had come near. 

Nell made a little house for him 
in the garden ot a small box. She 
raised it upon four stones at ihe 
four coriiiTs, so as to give him air. 
She slipped water and chestnuts 
underneath for his supper. 

A good doctor came to the house 
and looked at his wounds. He 
said the chipmonk could get well, 
with care. 

I wish I could tell you that, 
thanks to Nell, he was able to 
leave his hospital at last, and be 
still a resident of the old hollow 
tree. 

But somebody, passing through 
the garden after dark, overturned 
the box. When Nell went to feed 
her chipmonk in the morning, she 
found nothing but "mpty nut- 
shells, and puss wastiiiiar her face 
close by,— 0«r Lifl/i' Folh-s. 



shep- 



FAITHFULNESS. 

Gerhardt was a German 
herd boy, and a noble fellow ho 
was, although he was very poor. 
One day he was watching his 
flock, which was feeding in a val- 
ley on the borders of a forest, 
when a hunter came out of the 
woods aiid asked : " How far is 
it to the nearest village?" "Six 
milo.s, sir," unswered the boy ; 
" but the road is only a sheep 
track, and easily missed." The 
hunter looked at thi; crooked 
track, and said : 'My lad, I am 
very huntrry and thirsty, I hav(> 
lost my companions and missed 
my way. Leave your shei')) and 
show me the road, and 1 will p.iy 
you well," " I cannot leave my 
sheep, sir," rejoineil (rerhardt; 
"they will stray into the woods, 
and may be eaten by wolves, or 
stolen by iol)ber8 " " W(!ll, what 
of thatV" (|ii(>ried the hunter, 
" they are not your sheep. The 
loss of one or two wouldn't be 
much to your master, and I'll give 
you more than you have earned 



II 



tiift>^- 



in a whole year." " I cannot go, 
sir," rejoined GerharUi very firm- 
ly ; "my master fays me for my 
time, and he trusts mo with his 
sheep ; if I were to sell my time, 
w'lich does not belong tome, and 
the sheep should get lost, it would 
be the same as if I had stolen 
them." "Well," said the hunter, 
" Yov will trust your sheep with 
me w'lile you go to the village, 
and gf t mo some food and drink, 
and a guide ? I will take care of 



his head. "The sheep," said 
he, " do wot know your voice, 

and ." He stopped speaking. 

" And wh'.t ? Can't you trust me ? 
Do I look like a dishonest man?" 
said the hunter angrily. " Sir," 
said the boy, " you tried to make 
me false to my trust, and tried to 
make me break m^- vord to my 
master ; how do I know that you 
would keep your word ?" 'The 
hunter laughed, for he felt that 



A SHOCKING EEL. 

" Captain John," said I, " didn't 
you tell me that you sometimes 
brought wild animals in your 
ship from South America?" 

" Oh, yes," said he, " I brought 
one ol the first electric eels that 
was ever carried to New York. I 
got it in Para, Brazil, and I 
bought it of some Indians for 
twelve milreis — about six dollars 
of our money. We had lots of 
trouble with this fellow, for these 
eels live in fresh water, and, if 
we had not had plenty of rain on 
thii voyage, we couldn't have 
kept him alive, for the water he 
was in had to be changed every 
day. We kept him on deck in a 
water-barrel, which lay on its side 
in its chocks, with a square hole 
cut through the staves on the 
upper side to give the creature 
light and air. When we changed 
the water, a couple of sailors took 




the lad had fairly answered him. 
He said : " I see, my lad, that 
you are a good, faithful boy. 1 
will not forget you. Show me 
the road, and I will try to make 
it out myself" 

GerhardI then offered the con- 
tents of his scrip to the hungry 
man, who. coarse as it was, ate it 
gladly. Presently his attendants 
came up ; and then Gerhardt, to 
his surprise, found that the hunter 
was the Grand Duke, who owned 
all the country around. The duke 
was so pleased witii (he boy's 
honesty that he sent for him short- 
ly after that, and had him educa- 
ted. In after years Gerhardt be- 
came a very grea* and powerful 
man ; but he remainedhonest and 
true to his dying day. 



hold of th(> barrel and turned it 
partly over, while another held a 
straw broom against the hole to 
keep the eel from coniiliLr out. We 
woidd always know when the 
water was nearly run out, lor then 
the eel lay against the lower 
staves, and even the wood of the 
barrel would bo so charged with 
electricity that the sailors conld 
hardlv hold on to the ends of the 
barrel. They'd let go with one 
hand and take hold with the 
other, and then they d let go with 
that and change again. At first, I 
didn't believe that the fellowsfelt 
the eel's shocks in this way ; but, 
when 1 took hold myself one day, 
I found they weren't shamming 
at all. Then we tnrni'd the- barrel 



back and filled it up with Ire.sh 
What a beautiful sermon is thisj water, and started the eel olf for 
on the words of Christ, " Thou \ another day. 
hast been failhlul over a few j "Ho got along first-rate, and 
things, 1 will make thee rult^r over, kept well and hearty through the 
many things ; enter thou into the whole of the voyage. AVhen we 
joy of the Lord." — Advocate. 1 reached New York we anchored 



at Quarantine, and the health- 
officer came aboard. I knew him 
very well, and I said to him: 
'Doctor, I've got something aboard 
that perhaps yon never saw be- 
fore.' 'What's that?' said he. 
'An electric eel,' said I. 'Good'' 
said he ; ' that is something I've 
always wanted to see. I want to 
know Just what kind of a shock 
they can give.' ' All right,' said I ; 
'you can easily find out for your- 
self He is in this water-barrel 
here, and the water has just been 
put in fresh, so you can see him. 
All you have got to do is just to 
wait till he swims up near the sur- 
face, and then you can scoop him 
out with your hand. Youneedn't 
be afraid of his biting you.' The 
doctor said he was'i't afraid ol 
that. Ho rolled up his sleeve, 
and, as soon ns he got a chance, 
he took the eel by the middle and 
lifted it out of the water. It 
wasn't a very largo one, only about 
eighteen inches long, but pretty 
stout. The moment he •ilted it 
he dropped it, grabbed his right 
shoulder with his left hand, and 
looked aloft, 'What is the niiit- 
ter?' said I. 'Why, I thought 
something fell on me from the 
rigging,' said u\ 1 was s^re my 
arm was brc Lcn, ! never had 
sxich a blow in i.iy :iU'.' 'It was 
only the eel,' said I. ' Now you 
know what kind of a shock he can 
give.' " — From " The Mi/slrrioiis 
DiirrrI," by Ptiid I'arf, in St. Niclio- 
las for Aii'j:iixI. 

FATHER'S KNEELINt^- 
PLACE. 

The I'hiidven were playinir 
"Hide the haiulhercliicf." I sat 
and watched them a lonar while, 
and heard no unkind word, and 
saw scarcely a rough movement ; 
but after a while, 111 tie .Tack, whose 
turn it was to hide the handker- 
chief, went to the opposite end ol 
the room and tried to secrete it 
under the cu^shion of a big chair. 
Freddy immediately walked over 
to him, and said, in a low, gentle 
voice, "Please, .Tack, don't hide 
the handkerchief there, that is 
father's kneeling place," 

" j'ather's kneeling-place I'' It 
seemed like sacred ground to me 
as it did to little I'reddy ; and by- 
and-by, as the years roll on, ami 
tills place shall see the father no 
more forever, will not the memory 
of lliis hallowed spot h'ave an iin 
piession upon the young hearts 
that lime ami change can never 
elf'ace, and remi'in as one of the 
most ))recious memories of tin' 
old home? Oh, if there were 
only a "lather's kneeling-place" in 
every family' The mother kneels 
in her chamber and teaches Ihe 
little ones the morning and even- 
ing prayer, but the lather's pre- 
sence is oi'teii wanting ; business 
and the cares of life engross all 
his time, and though the mollier 
longs for his assistance and co- 
operation in the religious educa- 
tion of the children, he thinks it 
is a woman's work and leaves all 
to her. — Exchange, 



the health- 

I knew him 
laid to him : 
ithing aboard 
ever saw bu- 
t?' said he. 
II. 'Good'' 
nethinir I've 
'. I want to 
d of a shock 
right,' said I ; 
oHt for your- 
water-barrol 
las just been 
can see him. 
do is just to 
near the siir- 
m scoop him 
You needn't 
? you.' The 
'I't afraid of 
I his sleeve, 
jot a chance, 
1! middle and 

water. It 
e, only about 
■, but pretty 
t he 'illed it 
ed his right 
It hand, and 

is the mat- 
■, I thought 
le from the 
'vas sure my 
: never had 
fe.' 'It was 

' Now you 
.shock he ciin 
; Mi/sterioKS 
in St. NUIw- 



UELINd- 

ro playing 

liicf." I silt 

lonsr while, 

word, and 

moveiiicnt ; 

iTiu'k, wluisi' 

he hiindkcT- 

>ositi' end ol 

lo PiHTote it 

I big chair. 

tvalked ovor 

low, gentle 

, don't hide 

re, that i.'* 



hi 



-place!" It 
round to me 
ily ; and by- 
roll on, and 
10 lather no 
the memory 
leave an iin 
mng hearts 
can never 
one of the 
tries of thi' 
there were 
ngplace" in 
other kneeli- 
teaches the 
g and even- 
atlier's pr>- 

r; bu.sillc.'-'- 

engrops all 
the mother 
we and co- 
ious educa- 
he thinks it 
id leaves all 



«*4® 



FLYING WITHOUT 

BY C. F. HOLDER. 

As I write, there is a curious 
little brown-eyed creaturodarting 
about the room, now perched 
upon my shoulder, anon nibbling 
at my pen, balancing upon the 
edge of the inkstand, or sitting 
on its hind-legs upon the table, 
where it sportively tosses about a 
huge walnut. Now, spread out 
like a parachute, it is clinging to 



RKPRINTED STORI KS, FR OM 
WINGS. 



THE " N'OHTHKRM MESSENGER." 



75 




sailor's adventure 

OUXAI: !),•}. 



WITH 



tlie window-shade, and now like 
a Hash it springs into the air. com- 
inir down lightly, only to dart to 
some other elevation, thence to 
repeat its antics again and again 

As you must by this time sus- 
pect, my pet is a ilying-squirrel ; 
one of the familiar examples of a 
large number of animals that can 
move through the air without 
wings. If we closely examine 
this pretty little creature, we find 
that between the fore and hind 
leirs there is an expansion of the 
skin, which, when the legs are 
spread out, offers a decided resist- 
ance to the air and buoys the ani- 
mal up exactly as though it car- 
ried a parachute. When our tiny 
l>laymate is in mid-air, notice how 
careful it is to hold its feet and 
hands (for it certainly uses its 
lore-feet as hands) out as far as 
jiossible, to catch all the air it can. 
If we look closely, we shall find 
iitlached to each of the hands a 
ilclicate bone, which, when the 
^ ,..irrel is in flight, act as booms 
lor the curious sail in front. 

lint it is in the woods, in their 
native haunts, that thes(> beauti- 
liil animals make their most won- 
iIitIuI leaps. From the tops of 

I he tallest trees they launch them- 
^'■Ivos fearlessly into the air, com- 
i:iLr down with a graceful swoop 
loi' a hundred feet or more; then, 
liy a movement of the head, 
< hanging their course to an up- 
ward one, they rise ten or twelve 
ii'ct, and linally alight upon the 
Iri'p of their choi(!e. They im- 
mi'diately scramble to the top to 
airaiu soar away into the air, thus 
ii.ui>lling through the woods 

I I "111 tree to tree much faster than 



you can follow thi.'m. IIow like 
they are to birds, building nests 
for their young, and moving 
through the air with almost eijual 
freedom ! 

One of the most curious of this 
family is the sugar-squirrel — a 
beautiful creature.with large, curl- 
ing ears of a delicate ash-color 
above and white beneath. Like 
many squirrels, it is a nocturnal 
or night animal, lying concealed 
in its nest in some hollow tree 
until the sun disappears, 
when it comes out, and 
spends the night in wonder- 
ful leaps from tree to tree, 
in search of food and per- 
haps amusement, When 
descending from a great 
height, it seems as though 
they must inevitably dash 
headlong against the 
ground, so precipitate is 
their flight ; but this never 
happens. That they are 
able to change the direction 
of their flight while in mid- 
air seems a very natural 
and reasonable supposition, 
though only on one occasion 
has this feat been observed. 
The incident is related of a 
squirrel, which was being 
brought to England fromits 
home iu New Holland. The 
sailors had made quite a pet 
of the little creature, which 
was a sourcf of great amusement 
to them on account of its aston- 
ishing leaps from mast to mast 
One day the squirrel climbed 
clear to the top of the mainmast 
of the vessel, and seemed to be 
afraid to come down again, so one 
of the men started after it. But 
pist as he was about to grasp the 
truant, it expanded its broad, 
wing-like membrane, and shot off 
into the air. At the same moment 
the ship gave a heavy lurch to 
port. It seemed to all that their 
favorite must inevitably fall over 



branches of trees, head down- 
ward : but as evening comes on, 
they sally forth, olten doing great 
harm to the fruit on the neighbor- 
ing plantations. In some parts of 
/ava they are so numerous that 
it is found necessary to protect 
the fruit-trees with huge nets. 
The extent of their flights through 
the air is something astonishing. 
They sometimes drop to the 
ground and hop along with a 
shulBing kind of leap, but if they 
are alarmed, they spring to the 
nearest tree and in a moment 
reach its top by a series of 
bounds. Out upon the branches 
they dart, and with a rush are 
off into space. Sailing t'lrough 
the air like some great bird, 
down they go obliquely, swift 
as an arrow, a hundred and 
lifty feet or more, rising again 
in a graceful curve and alight- _ 
ing safely on a distant tree. In 
these great leaps they carry 
their young, which cling to 
them or sometimes follow them — 
in their headlong flight, utter- 
ing hoarse and piercing cries. 
The colugos live almost exclu 
sively on fruit, preferring plan- 
tains and the young and tender 
leaves of the cocoa-palm, though 
some vi'riters aver that they 
have seen them dart into the air 
and actually catch birds. The 
flying-lemurs are perfectly harm- 
less, and so gentle as to be easily 
tamed. They have lovely dark 
eves and very intelligent and 
knowing laces. 

In many old natural histories, 
— especially those of Aldrovandus 
and Gesner, — strange pictures are 
shown of dragons, with terrible 
heads, breath like steam, the feet 
and leirs of a bird, and serpent- 
like skins. In the days of chiv- 
alry these dragons were very 
'ommon, if we may believe the 
tail's of the time, and every 
knight or gentleman with any 



writers of past centuries. The 
dragons are small lizards that 
live among the trees, and though 
they have no wings, they move 
about through the air in graceful 
curves, with almost the freedom 
of birds. When they are upon a 
branch, you would hardly notice 
anything peculiar about thera ; 
but, let an insect pass by that 
they are particularly fond ol',and, 
with a rush, several of them fly 
into the air. Between their legs 



w 




loard; but, evidently seeing its pretensions to valor, seems to have 
danger, it suddenly changed its followed in the footsteps of St. 
course, and with a broad and : George, according to the old ro- 
graceful curve sank lightly and I mancers. But, in these days, th 
safely upon the 
deck. 

In the forests 
of the islands 
constituting the 
Indian Archi- 
pelago is found 
a curious flying 
animal that 
forms the con- 
necting link be- 
tween the lemur 
and the bat. The 
natives call it 
the colugo, and 
also the "flying- 
fox," but it is 
inovc^ like a Hy- 
ing monkey, as 
the lemurs are 
cousins of Iho^i. 
monkeys. Like"' 
the bats, these (^ 
animals sleep in'' 
the day-timr,| 
hanging from 
the limbs mid 




FliYlNO LIZARDS. 



world has been 
sowelltravelled 
over that the 
dragons have 
been linally 
sifted down to 
one or two 
beautiful little 
creatures that 
live in India 
and the islands 
of the Indian 
Archipelago. 
Save tor their 
harmless aspect 
they have very 
much the ap- 
pearance of the 
dragons of the 
olden time, and 
we suspect they 
wer the or- 
iginals of Uie 
ta' 3 that were 
[certainly be- 
lieved by the 
natural- history 



THE FLYINO-SQDIRUEL. 

is a curious memnrane, encirc- 
ling them like a parachute, banded 
and crossed with gorgeous tints 
of red and yellow, which glisten 
in the sun like molten gold. 
They seem to float in the air a 
second while snapping at the ob- 
ject of their pursuit ; then they 
sink gracefully, alighting upon 
the trees or branches. The seem- 
ing wings are membranes — really 
an expansion of the skin of the 
flank, held in place by slender, 
bony processes connected with 
the false ribs, which shut up, as 
it were, when the " dragon " is 
resting, the wings appearing to 
be folded at the sides They live 
upon insects, and dart after them 
from tree to tree with amazins 
rapidity, their long tails lashing 
the air like knives. 

According to the naturalist 
Brontius, the common flying- 
lizard inflates a curious yellow 
goitre, ormembranc>, when it dies, 
thus rendering it lighter, and re- 
minding us again of the birds, 
with their hollow bones. Thus 
assisted, they cross intervals of 
space as much as seven hundred 
feet in length faster than the eye 
can follow them. In darting 
across small streams, sometimes 
they fall short and come down in 
the water, when of course, they 
are obliged to swim the remain- 
der ot the distance. Sometimes 
they are found in large streams, 
so it is not improbable that they 
go in swimminuf for the pleasure 
of it. 

Equally curious as a. flyev with- 
out wings is the Rliaritjthorun- 
tree-toad found in New Ilollan 
It also lives in the trees, and > 
enable it to move from n <, 
another with safety and b; 



w 



««-» 



!: 76 



' THE GREAT K. K. R. R. 

There was a wonderful stir 
on tho big plav-ground of Ur. 
Thwackem's school during the 
noon recess. Nobody was play- 
ing base-ball or foot-ball, but the 
running and rushing, the whoop- 
ing and general racket and riot, 
were 6ora(!thin^: uncommon. 

" Who ever heard such a noise !" 
exclaimed Dr. Thwackem himself, 
putting his head out of an uppur 
window. " What in the name of 
common-sense have those boys 
iound to play at now ? " 

Dr. Thwackem soon discovered. 
It was Erasmus Jackson's new 
game. Erasmus Jackson was 
the pride of the whole Insti- 
tute for the invention of new 
games, and this was his latest 
effort. Erasmus had organ- 
ized tho one hundred and 
twenty-three other boys into 
the Great Royal Kamtsobatka 
Railway. Erasmus was its 
President, of course. 

The play. ground of the In- 
stitute happened to be a pretty 
good-sized plot of unoccupied 
town grou'.id adjoining the 
school. It ran clear through 
from street to street. Across 
this from corner to corner ran 
a d'jublo track marked out 
with sawdust. Along it could 
be seen rushing, with an ap- 
palling whooping and signal- 
ing, strings of boys, ten at a 
time. These were the pas- 
senger trains. Freight trains, 
consisting of ironi hfteen to 
twenty boys, alternated with 
these; they moved more slow- 
ly, but with a wonderful pull- 
ing and letting oli of steam. 

Every few minutes a loud 
hurrahing and the blasts of a 
certain cracked tin horn 
warned everything ahead up- 
on wheels (legs) to clear the 
track for the lioyal Moscow 
Lightning Kxprei-s. Moscow 
is not in Kamt.schatka, but 
Erasmus Jackson said that 
that didn't make any diil'er- 
once The " general office'' of 
the company was at Moscow. 

As the Doctor looked on, 
amused, tho brakes were ap- 
plied to the express with a ; ; 
Budiienness that nearly threw i 
it heels over head. That, 
however, was to avoid a colli- 
sion with a freiirht train, and a 
purse of marbles was immediately 
made up and presented to the 
express engineer by the pas- 
sengers, who owed their lives to 
his presence of mind. 

" Upon my word," exclaimed 
Dr. Thwackem, chuckling, "it's 
truly quite shocking to tliink of 
so narrow an escape.' 

All at once a new idea entered 
the good Doctor's \\ hiti^ head. Ho 
looked down to the southeast 
corner of tlii> jilay-irround ; there 
was located 1 inibiictoo, tlie other 
terminus of the railway Tim- 



REPRINT El) ST^jRIES. FROM THE 
looked to sec if 



NORTHERN MESSENGER.' 



The Doctor 
close to its imaginary towers lay 
a great pile of cut cord-wood. 
Yes, there it was; just as some- 
body had thrown it from a wag- 
gon. 

" I've a good piece of mind to 
suggest it," said the Doctor to the 
sparrows chattering on a bough 
close by. " It won't hurt their 
fun. It'll do them good, and her 
good." 

Ho pulled his head inside the 
window, and left the sparrows to 
chatter. Taking his hat, he 
walked down stairs, and out upon 
the steps. 



rather long name of the company. 
He contini^.ed : " On observing 
your splendid system of road 
management, a thought has oc- 
curred to me. I wish to respect- 
fully submit it to you. Do you 
see that red cottage, which no- 
body lives in, down by your 
flourishhig city of Timbuctoo? 
Good. And now will you kindly 
turn and perceive that other red 
cottage, rather larger, not many 
yards from your noble railway 
depot of Moscow? You will 
notice that they are just diagonally 
across from each otho^. Very 
well. Oar old acquaintance 




^^^fi^frz=5?^!^^ 



OUTLINE DUAWINO I.E.SSON. — THE FISHERMAN fl RETURN. 



' Boys ! boys ! " he called in his 
kind, clear old voice. 

The Royal Knmlschatka Rail- 
way rollins stock resohed itself 
quickly into a circling group of 
one hundred and twenty-lour 
boys, closing around the Doctor 
oil the steps. 

The Doctor's eye twinkled. He 
made a low bow. 

" 1 should i)erhaps have said 
Mr. President, Stoctkholders, and 
Officers of the what— what is it?" 

"(Ireat Royal Kaintschalka 



j Railway." came the deafening an- 
b\ii loo isn't in Kamtschatka any i swer. 

Thank you," responded the 



moil' that Mosi'ow, l)ut Krasmus 
Ja<:kson said th:it it sounded just 
,\s Weil as if it was. 



II 



€SH^ 



Widow Pitcher, who sweeps our 
school-room so thoroughly for us, 
bought two cords of hickory from 
Farmer Mee yesterday, and told 
.his boy to dump Ihem at her red 
cottage on the h'tt sidi^ of the 
school play-ground upon Si)nMg 
Street. What did Farmer Mce's 
boy do but come to town early 
this inornini;, and diiinp every 
stick of tlie liiekory alopgside the 
red cotlaire to the riyht siilc — 
Summer Street. Poor Mrs. Pilclier 
woki^ up, and liniked aiioss lo the 
other sidewalk, and tlnTe it was. 
She told nie before school-time 
that she didn't know how in Ih'' 

all 



Doctor, slipping politely out of world she was going to get 
the necessity of repeating ihc that wood over to her yard, where 



it ought to be. Don't you think 
that the freight trains of the— 
Royal Kamtschatkn Railway could 
solve her difficulty for her,especi- 
ally if I should give them half an 
hour's extra recess to accomplish 
it?" 

Instantly the whole throng of 
Institute boys might have 
been discovered rushing across 
the broad play-ground to Tim- 
buctoo. which became at once 
tho great freight centre of the 
G.R. K. R. R. Erasmus Jack- 
son, Guy Merrill, and Lee 
Holmes laid aside loftier dig- 
nities, and became hard- 
worked freight dispatchers 

" Three cheers for the Royal 
Road !" shouted out some one, 
as the first freight train, each 
boy carrying half a dozen thick 
hickory billets, set out for 
Moscow. All passenger trains 
went off for the day. Line 
after line laden with the mis- 
delivered wood steamed off 
hot and fast for the distant 
back fence, where their bur- 
den was tumbled over into 
Mrs. Pitcher's yard. The 
hooting, switching, whistling, 
and calling grew so loud that 
the passing towns-people halt- 
ed before the boundaries of 
the Institute play-ground, and 
asked each other " if Dr. 
Thwackem was deaf." 

As he was leaning composed- 
ly out of the upper window, 
laughing to himself at the 
quick work the railway was 
making \yilh their job, and 
commenting upon it to the 
sparrows, it is lo be supposed 
he countenanced the racket. 

The last stick was finally 
tossed over into Mrs. Pitcher's 
domain. The last Great Royal 
freight train disjointed itselfin 
the middle of the i)lay-ground- 
The boys came thronging iii> 
the narrow staircases, laughing 
and chaffing, and not without 
secret i)leasure at having ae- 
coin])lished a kindly act even 
in play. 

The Doctor stood up as they 
resumed their seats, lie looked 
around and down upon them 
with an eye whose moisture 
gave a hint at his pride in tlieie . 
_l "Mr I'resident, Stockholders, 
Directors, Luirines, and Cars of 
the (ireat Royal Tiin — Kaint- 
schalka liiilway, I thank you. You 
havc> turned sport into a generous 
deed, and an' only twenty minutes 
ovi'r the usiial recess hour. Again 
I thank you — Now,l)oys,l()books. " 
And to bjoks they went. 

\\'\vn live Franklin Institute 
canii' li'Liether the next niurnini;- 
then', printi'd in husre uneven let- 
ters uiion the l)la(kl)unr(l, in front 
of wliuh stood Mr. Thwackem. 
the l)(iys nad 

"MKS I'iTelieU'- tHiMiKS and 
(loD nieSS tllK Hale RoDe.' 

Its name hi* . evidently been 
too much lor .tlrs Pitcher's edu 
irttional resources. — Iluij/cif , 
Young Ptiii ii:. • 



W' 



you think 
I of the — 
Iway could 
her.pspeci- 
cin half au 
iccomplish 

throng of 
fht have 
ing across 
d to Tim- 
e ut once 
tre of the 
mus Jack- 
and Leo 
oftior dip- 
le hard- 
)atcher8 
r the Royal 
t some one, 
train, each 
lozen thick 
?t out for 
■nger trains 
day. Line 
th the mis- 
teamed off 
the distant 
1 their bur- 
over into 
-ard. The 
■whistling, 

loud that 
people halt- 
imdaries of 
ground, and 
r "if Dr. 
af." 

ir composed- 
er window, 
self at the 
ailway was 
ir job, and 

it to the 
10 supposed 
he racket, 
was linally 
rs. Pitcher's 
Great Royal 
ited itsellin 
ilay-ground- 
ironging up 
ert, laugliiiii; 
not without 

having ao- 
ily act even 

1 up as they 
lie looked 

\ipon them 
ise ni<)i»ture 

jile in till 11'. 
toekliolilev>, 

iiid Cars oi 
fini — Kanit- 
ikyou. Ydu 
( a generou.s 
iity mmuteh 
loiir. Again 
ys.to books. " 
unt. 

n Inslituli' 
xt niiirnini;' 
uni"ven bt- 
ird, in frinii 
Thwackem, 

HmiKS anil 
[MJe RoDe." 

lently been 
tihi'i's I'du 
IJiii/ji'i-' 



;; 



1 



REPRINTED 

THB BOY THAT DREW THE 
BABY'S PICTURE. 
There was once a little Ameri- 
can boy named Benjamin West ; 
when he was only seven years 
old he was watching the beautiful 
baby, daughter of his eldest sister, 
in her cradle, when she seemed to 
him to be thu most beautiful thing 
he had ever seen, and he ran and 
got some paper and drew the 
picture in red and black ink. 
The likeness was siiid to be an 
excellent one and from that time 
forth his mind ran on nothing 
else than being an artist. His 
father was a Quaker farmer and 
had not the money, even if he 
had the wish to give his son the 
education necessary for an artist ; 
but still Benjamin West worked 
on making his first paint brushes 
out of the hairs of a cat's tail, 
and painted away from his 
seventh year of age to the time 
ofhisdeath. His birthplace was 
in Springfield, Pennsylvania, 
and he went from there to 
Philadelphia where he reeeived 
some instruction in his art and 
there and in the neighboring 
towns and New York, practised 
it chiefly as a portrait painter. 
In 1760 when twenty-two years 
old he went to Italy where he 
remained for three yi'ars.sriiiiiing 
very remarkalilo succi-ss, and 
then went to dwell for the rest 
ol his lifetime in London, Eng- 
land. Here he received the 
highest honors that can bo given 
all arli.st, being made president 
of the Royal Academy, and for 
iii'arly forty years he was the 
friend of King Gi'oigo the Third 
who was proud ol being his 
|)atron. But still Benjamin 
West made one great mistake 
as an artist, which Samuel 
Smiles in St/j Ilr'/i, a book that 
everybody should read.refers to 
in those words; " AVest miijht 
have been a greater painter, hail 
he not been injured by tooearlv 
success ; his fame though greiit, 
was not purchased by study, 
trials, and difhcnlties. and it 
has not been enduring." 

THE PARROT'S MEMORY. 

A parrot was once the pet of 
;i beautiful Spanish lady, who 
laressed him daily, and taught 
him her musical tongue. At 
last she sold him to an English 
naval officer, who took him home 
:is a present to his wife. 

For some time the parrot seemed 
to be melancholy beneath the 
icray skies of England, where 
men and birds spoke a tongue 
unknown to him. By degrees, 
however, he learned some 
English sentences, forgot ap- 
parently all the Spanish he ever 
knew, and regained health and 
.-spirits. 

Years passed away, and the 
I>arrot still lived as the pet of the 
whole family ; he grew to be 
very old, could only eat pap. and 
cnild scarcely climb his pole, but 
nobody had the heart to destroy 
ilim, and so he grew weaker and 



STORIES, J'ROM 

weaker. One day a Spanish 
gentleman called, and was shown 
to the room where the parrot 
lived. 

A lively discussion arose in 
Spanish between the visitor and 
his host. It was the first tiifne 
since his arrival in England that 
the bird had heard his native 
language, and it must have re- 
minded him of his sojourn on the 
Peninsula. With wild delight 
the parrot spread out his wings, 
repeated hurriedly some of the 
Spanish phrases learned in his 
youth, and fell down dead. The 

1'oy of hearing the sweet accents 
le had learned when he was the 
senorita's companion was more 
than he could bear. — Harper's 
Younf^ People. 



rilK "NORTHERN MESSENGER.' 



77 5? 



him, " My boy, yon must trust 
God first, and then you will love 
Him without trying to at all." 

AVith a surprised look he ex- 
claimed, " What did you say ?" 

I repeated the exact words 
again, and I shall never forget 
how his large, hazel eyes opened 
on me, and his cheeks flushed 
as he slowly said, " Well, I never 
knew that before. I always 
thought that I must love God 
first before I had any right to 
trust Him." 

" No, my dear boy." I answered, 
" God wants us to trust Him ; that 
is what Jesus always asks ns to 
do first of all, and He knows that 
as soon as we trust Him we shall 
begin to love Him. This is the 
way to love God, to put your trust 




T IK HOY THAT DREW THE HAUV S I'lCTlIKK. 



HOW TO LOVE GOD. 

In a beautiful New England 
village a young man lay very 
hick, drawing iic»r to death, and 
very sad. His heart longed 
for a treasure which he knew had 
never been his, and \vhich was 
worth more to him now than all 
the gold of all the we,>?(eru mines. 
One day 1 sat down by hiiu, took 
his hand, and, lo<;king in his 
troubled face, asked him what 
made him .so sad. 

" lit, do," said he, " 1 want to 
love God. Won't you tell me how 
to love God ? " 

1 cannot describe the piteous 
tones in which ho said these 
words, and the look of trouble 
which he gave to mo I said 



in Him first of all." Then spoke 
to him of the Lord Jesus, and 
how God sent Him that we might 
lielieve in Ilim, and how, all 
throucrh his life, He tried to win 
the trust of men ; how grieved 
He was when men would not be- 
lieve in Ilim, and every one who 
believed came to love without 
trying at all. He drank in all the 
truth, ;\nd4(im)>ly saying, " 1 will 
trust Jesus now,' without an ellort i 
put his young .soul in Christ's! A Christntii man, working hard 
hands that very hour ; and so he for GoJ, was told by the doctor 
came into the peace of God that he must give up all work if he 
which passeth understanding, and would save his life, 
lived in it calmly and swcn>tly to j His answer was, "1 would 
theend. None of all the loving i rather spend two or three years in 
frii'iuls who watchec! over him doing good than exist lor si 
Uiriim the remiuwing weeks ol idleness. 



his life doubted that the dear boy 
had learned to love God without 
trying to. — Word and Work. 

ONE STEP AT A TIME. 
Many there are who stand hesi- 
tating on the threshold of a Chris- 
tian life, unwilling to commit 
themselves by taking a first step 
lest they should not prove able to 
hold out in the new way. To 
such the following narrative from 
Early DexB may prove a hcfpful 
suggestion. We give it as we 
find it, commending it to their 
earnest attention : 

" George Manning had almost 
decided to become a Christian, 
one doubt held him back. ' How 
can I know,' he said to himself, 
'that even if I do begin a re- 
ligious life, I sh>>.ll continue 
faithful, and finally reach 
heaven?' He wanted to see 
the whole way there before 
taking the first step. While in 
this state of indecision and nn- 
happiness he one evening sought 
the house of his favorite pro- 
fessor — for he was a college 
student at the fime — and they 
talked for several hours upon 
the all absorbing topic. But the 
1 onversation ended without 
dispelling his fears or bringing 
him any nearer the point of de- 
cision. 

" When he was about to go 
home the professor accompanied 
him to the door, and, observing 
how dark the night was, pre- 
pared a lantern, and, handing. 
It to his young friend, said, 

"•George, this little light 
will not show you the whole 
way to your room, but only one 
step at a time ; but take that 
step and you will reach your 
home i'l salety.' 

" It proved thu word in sea- 
son. AsGeorge walked secure- 
ly along in the path brightened 
by the little lantern the truth 
Hashed through his mind, dis- 
pelling the last shi.dow of doubt. 
" ' Why can I not trust my 
heavenly Father,' he said to him- 
self, 'even if I cannot see my way 
clear to the end, if he gives me 
I lie light to take one step? I 
w ill trust him ; I do trust him.' 
"He could hardly wait till be 
reached his room to fall on his 
knees and thank God for the 
peace and joy that filled his soul. 
Early next morning the professor 
was summoned to the door. There 
he found George Manning. With 
beaming face he looked up to his 
teacher, and as he bunded him 
the lantern said signilic'intly ; 

■ ' Doctor, your little lamp 
lighted me all the way home last 
mght.' ■ 

A CHRISTIANS CHOICE. 



1 o 1 1 1 

X in4| 



78 



IlKlMllNTKD STORIES. FllOM TIIK •< NoHTIIKHN MKSSENOE '." 



A MOTHER'S LOVE. 

One Huminer, somo years ag'o, 
a large river in thi' south of 
France, over(lo>ved its lianks, 
carrying destruction i'arand wide, 
washing away whole villaijies, and 
large portions of towns, and send- 
ing numbers of souls into eter- 
nity, with scarcely one moment's 
warning. Parents saw their chil- 
dren, and children their parents, 
drowned before their eyes ; hus- 
bands had no power to save their 
wives, nor wives their husbands, 
and whole families, who when 



BAD BARGAINS. 

Once a Sabbath-school teacher 
remarked that he who buys the 
truth makes a good bargain, and 
enquired if any scholar recollected 
an instance lu Scripture of a had 
bargain. 

" I do," replied a boy ; " Esau 
made a bad bargain when he sold 
his birthright for a mess of pot- 
tage." 

A second said, "Judas made a 
bad bargain when ho sold his 
Lord for thirty pieces of silver." 

A third boy observed, " Our 



It was with great pleasure that 
we heard him say one evening, 
as with beaming face, he turned 
to his friend Lord Shaftesbury, 
who occupied the chair — " Why, 
my lord, some people coiiinlain 
that they cannot understand the 



repeated efforts to grasp the 
i>ridle in his mouth, each time 
falling heavily to the road, and 
narrowly escaping injury Irom 
the horse's feet. lUit ho at last 
made an extraordinary spring in 
the air, and, grasping the bridle 



II 



glorious G-ospel of the Lord .lesus ' firmly in his teeth, pulled the 



the sun vj-ent down, thought only Lord tells us that he makes a bad 
of peace and safety, were, before bargain who, to gain the the whole 
morning engulfed in the pitiless world, loses his own soul." 



flood 

Among the inhabitants of 
this part of the country, was 
a mother with her twin babes, 
whom she loved very dearly ; 
and when the dreadful waters 
came dashing round her 
house, rising higher and 
higher every minute, you 
may be sure that she tried 
her best to think of some way 
of saving them. First she 
l)ut them into a tuli of the 
kind in which French people 
wash their clothes, hut this 
soon began to leak, and she 
saw that tlu^re would be no 
safety for iln'ni there. 

There was a tall tree grow- 
ing near the house, and into 
this she climbed with her 
two baby-boys. But the 
\ipper branches, to which the 
ivater was driving her, were 
too slight to bear the weight 
which was on them, and she 
telt them crackinir beneath 
lier. As (juickly as possible, 
she tied her children as high 
in the tree as she could, and 
then, being obliged to let go 
lier hold, she dropped into the 
wat.ir, which closed over her 
lie.id, and she was drowned. 

And now, of what i.s this 
mother's love a faint, but only 
II faint, picture? You ali 
know, I am sure, who has 
.said; "A mother may for- 
aet, yet will 1 not foi net thee.'' 
< >. have you trusted in that 
love, or are you .still careles.s 
about it, going on as il it were 
nothing to you, whatever it 
might be to others 7 Tln' 
story of His love ha.s been 
often, olten told, but it will 
keep its freshness to all eter- 
nity ; and those who are saved 
will never be weary of sii:;; 
inn "Worthy is tii<' Lamb that 
was slain to receive power, and 
riches, and wisdom, and slrensith, 
and honor, and glory, and bless- 
ing " 

It is pleasant to havi- to tell you 
tiiat the babes were soon saved 
by a j);iS8ing boat ; and it is i" be 
hop(Hl that 'he lives thus spared 
may not be wabte<l, but may be 
devoted, tlirousrh the knowledge 
of the love of (.'hrist, to the service 
!!!' Ood. — Labor of Loue. 



" Boy, what will you take to tell 



Christ. Not understand it I 
Why, it is as plain as A B C :— 

£^ — " ' Ar.ii have sinned, and come 
short of the glory of U-od ; ' 

2 — " ' Behold the Lamb of God, 
which taketh away the sin 
of the world ; ' 

(J — " ' Come unto Mo, all ye that 
labor and are heavy laden.'" 
— Friendly ViHi'liir. 



horse's head down and put a stop 
to tho runaway. Wo could not 
learn the name of tho owner of 
tho horse. Tho dog having done 
a remarkabl# t.^rvice disappeared 
in tho direction of George street. 
Eye-witnesses state that it was 
one of the most intelligent acts of 
a dumb beast which they had 
ever seen. — iVew Jininswirk 
(iV.J.) Fredonian. 




.iriKii-; iwviN'ES SHOUT seumun. 



a lie for me '." asked a mate of 
oneof thelittlerabin-boyson board 
of a fine English ship. ''Not all 
the gold of Calilornia, sir," was 
the prompt answer of the lad. 



Nevku give up your enthu- 



•"• siasms 



.JUDGE PAYNE'S SHORT 
SERMON. 

The jiithy sayings of tlie late 
Judge I'ayne will never be for- 
gotten by the thousands who were 
privilegi'd to hear him. IIisbri(>f 
Gospel Sermon was perhaps one 
1 of his happiest utterances. 



A DOG STOPS A RUNAWAY 
HORSE. 

.A horse attached to a cart, be- 
coming unmanageable on upper 
Ciiurch street Wedne.sdiiy, started 
oli'ona run, leaving the owner 
sitting in the road where he had 
fallen when the animal started. 
The horse was heading thi! street 
named, and putting on more 
steam with every bound he made, 
until the corner of (reorge street 
was reached. Here a large New- 
foundland dog suddenly appeared 
in the road and rushed toward 
the horse's head. The dog made 



A KIND HORSE. 

A gentleman owned a fine 
horse which was very fond of 
him, and would come from 
the pasture at the sound of 
his voice and follow him about 
like a dog. At one time, the 
horse became lame, and was 
obliged to stay in his stable 
and not be used for many 
weeks. During this time, an 
old cat made her nest upon 
the scaffold just above the 
horse's manger, and placed 
there her little family of live 
kittens. She and the horse 
got on nicely for some days. 
She jumped down into his 
manger and went off for food, 
aiidthen came back andleaped 
up to her kittens again. But 
one morning she rolled off 
into the manger with her foot 
bleeding and badly hurt, so 
that she could scarcely crawl, 
she managed to leap away on 
three feet and get her break- 
fast, but wh"ii she came back, 
she was entirely unable to 
get to her kittens ; and what 
do you think she did '? She 
lay down at the iiorse's feet, 
and moved and looked up 
several times till, at last, pony 
seeming to understand her 
wants, reached down, took 
tlie cat in his teeth, and tossed 
her up on the scaffold to her 
kittens, who, I doubt not, 
\vere glad enougti to see her. 
This was repeated morning 
alter morning. Kit would 
roll off into the manger, go 
out and iret lier breakfast, 
come back, and lie tossed up 
to her family by the kind 
horse,-- Ife.s/ecrt Chrislian Ad- 
rnrnte. 



Tempeijantk Liteh.\tttre.— - 
The Rraiuc well says: — ' All tem- 
perance work that takes no 
measure to <li8seininato temper- 
ance literature in tho com- 
munity neglects tho use of the 
most important arm of the 
teni|ierance reform. It is like 
oyster soup got up without 
using any oysters. That is 
where to look for the dead 
lodgim and suspensions and ex- 
pulsions : 



ssai 



\l 



tATTIRE.— 

■ AUtom- 
tuki's no 
a tempBr- 
lie, ooin- 
isc ol' the 
ol thi^ 
t is liki! 
wilhont 
Tliat is 
the deiid 
4 and ex- 



REPItlNTKD STORIKS, KHOM THK " NOWTHKUX MKSSKXr.KR." 



79 V 



TUB GYMNAST OF THE SEA 

BY F P CHAPLIN. 



faBhioii of ftccomplishin;^ tho lahor. 
While I'onr are playiiiii onrsmeii, 
the resting four may be (rettinpf 
somethinjf ready for sniiper — and 
it's "supper-time" about all the 
time with them, so report saith. | 
Someliines the wily Captain! 
finds a ioe not agreeable to his 
mind — what then--what happens 
when the grampus or the carha-' 
lot offer fight ? Well it is droll 
eiiouffh.ibr in this dire emergency 
the old sea-pirateresorts to a dark 
andmost nonf'using bit of strategy ; 
ho always carries about him, in a 



grow again, an d the sea-giant 

girded with new strength 

sets forth more determined than 
Octopns vulgaris is his name, ever to conquer his enemies, 
mid in and out among the sheltered I Can you guess where the 
bays of islands dotting the great , mouth is V within the space 
Northern Pacific, he moves with ! surrounded by these eight lively 
solemn purpose, mercilessly en- 'arms, there you find it, with a 
trapping " myriads of lesser voy- thick round lip, and just under 
airers," that in shoals glid(^ with the lip a sort of parrot-like beak, 
sinuous sweep on toward the with the short mandible upper- 
highways of the mighty deep. I most. There is no bone under 
With the greatest diligence the these mandibles, but their interior 
monster travels over lovely sea is filled with a fibrous substance 
forests wavering in calm beauty i of marvellous strength and solid- 
heneath the swell 
of tho Indian 
ocean, or the blue 
waters of the 
Mediterranean. 
In these dim- 
lighted thorough- 
fares he delights, 
inlets and round- 
ed curves afford 
tho hiding-places 
that he loves ; in 
them, restmg 

quietly on beds of 
sea-weed, he finds 
countless com- 
panies of scaly 
beauties utterly 
powerless to re- 
sist his electric 
touch ! 

Very curiously 
endowed is our 
mammoth triivcl- 
ler ; no shell, no 
skeleton has he, 
but in the back 
arc two conical 
piecesofhorn-like 
substance, well- 
embedded. His 
body resembles a 
|i'lly-bag, round 
and sometimes as 
large as a barrel ; 
over this, the 
( reature has a 
sort of leather .sac, 
thick and strong 
Hut wonder of 
wond'^rs, now 
ii])p<'ar r/.y/iihuge 
arms ! and upon 
them are raniied 
in Older nearly 
two thousand 
sucking - cups ! 
due hundred and 
twenty pairs to 
lach arm. How 
'iin he ever get 
lived with so 
iiiiuiy l)usy ser- 
vants I And think, 
if you can, how 

terribly he would hold on to ify. The muscles of the jaws liit; inside pocket, a great supply 
iiny-thing hecauu'ht ! Soinelinies, are very powerful, and the t(Uigue of ink, and now, to bafife his au- 
when sailors have been attacked is delicate and capable of perfjomi- tagonist, out eoines this ink-baa- 
l)y this horrible sea-pirate, they insr various olHc,.s in the disposi- to the rescue, and so iniuh is 
linve willingly cut otFa hand or a tion of food. thrown out thai, all about, th 

loot to free themselves from the When this Iny traveller sallies water is so blackened that nobody 
Icarful embrace. If it so happens forth in ([uest ol adventure by sea, can see straight, and Octopus is 
iliat Octoi)us himself has fallen the huge disc of a body becomes safe, for every other creature 
iivto hands stronger than his own a b lat ; and for merry rowers, roaming round is utterlv mystified 
lie will irladly lose some of his Captain Cejihalapod calls for ihe and confounded. It is then that 
liowerful pincers ill the tussle lively exer(-ise of the eight strong the owner of the ink-baj slips oil 
'iitherlhangive up and be beaten ; arms, and a right jolly time they with a stealthy mov-.ment to a 
and really it does not matter have, never getting weary, sinci' covert he has aforetime made 
much, since in a little tijpe they they follow the "ride and tie" note of against a season of sudden 




surprise. This dark-huod sub- 
stance is helpful in other ways ; 
it is the sf/iia used by painters, 
and is much viiiuod i v artists 
for the delicate brown tints it 
afibrds. 

AVhen this mammoth dweller 
of the seas changes his mood, and 
decides to take a trip on land,— 
though on land beneath tho 
waves, — he at once issues orders 
to his sturdy oarsmen, and, in- 
stanter, they become the most 
nimble of legs ! bearing about 
with swiftness and ease the now 
plump body. In 
a trice the in- 
dependent travel- 
ler strides up and 
down the sandy 
highway, tramp- 
ing on like an 
enormous spider 
and passing over 
slippery ledges as 
easily as a lly 
dances over a 
window - pane. 
Now see extend- 
ed the countless 
suckers, holding 
firmly to rocks 
or sea - wrack, 
and, as if tossed 
srently in a ham- 
mock, the portly 
body is presently 
lulled to softest 
slumbers. 

On awakening, 
the alert trapezist 
exercises the long 
arms in other 
ways, twisting 
andtwirlingthem 
here and there, 
furtivelv grasp- 
ing at hidden tit- 
hits, or stretching 
Ibrth in search of 
turner game, un- 
til marching or- 
ders are again 
issued 

Octopus we 
have introduced 
to you with his 
eight arms and 
bill ink-bag No 
wonder, if the 
out spreail arms, 
with all tbose 
ugly sucking- 
cups, were in 
duty, that it was 
called " a hun- 
dred limb'd crea- 
ture ! " 

Octopus, ugly 
as he is in ap- 
pearance and character, is, by 
sailors of East Indian seas, regar- 
ded asa most delicious morsel, and 
if a sudden stroke of good fortune 
should secure the huge body for 
ii 'iraiul roast, areat is the rejoic- 
ing ! Hut the courageous mariner 
often loses his own life, and is hope- 
lessly sucked in, piece-meal, 
within the horrid lips. — WiUn 
Aica/i-i . 

(r(ii) LovKTH a cheerful giver. 
1 -2 Coit. !) : 7 



WH»- 






X hi) 

* THE 



REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENOER." 



THE 



LAST STRAND OF 
ROPE. 

In (ho yoar 1846. on St Kilda. 
one of the InlandH of Wostern 
Scotland, thoru lived a poor 
widow and her son. She trained 
him in the fear of the Lord, and 
well did he repay her cure. He 
was her stay and support, though 
only sictcen years of age. They 
were very poor, and to help their 
scanty me<tl8, Ronald, her sou, 
used to collect sea-birds' eggs up- 
on the neighboring cliirs. This 
feat was accompanied with con- 
siderable danger, for the birds 
used often to attack him. 

One day, having received 
his mother's blessing, Ronald 
set off to the clifis, having 
supplied himself with a 
strong rope, by which to get 
down, and a knife to strike 
the bird, should he be at- 
tacked. How magnificent 
was that scene ! 'The clifl 
rose several hundred feet 
above the sea, whose wild 
waves lashed madly against 
it,dashingthe glittering spray 
tar and near. 

Ronald fastened one end 
ot the rope firmly upon the 
top of the cliff, and the other 
round his waist, and was 
then lowered until he got 
opposite one of the fissures 
111 which the birds build, 
when ho gave the signal to 
liis companions not to let 
him down any further. He 
plunlcd his foot on a slight 
projection of the rock.grasped 
wiih one hand his knifo. and 
wilh the other tried to take 
the eggs. Just then a Idrd 
ilcw at him and utt.icked 
him. Ho made a blow with 
the knife ; but, oli ! hoirible 
to narrate, iu place of strik- 
ing the bird, he struck the 
rope, and, having sovorod 
some of the strnyJs, ho hun<^ 
sus]>cndcd over that wild 
abyss of rusjing waves l>y 
only a few thread.s of hemp. 
Ho uttered a piercing ex- 
clamation, wliich was heard 
l)y his companions above, 
who saw his danger, and 
gently tried to draw him up. 
Awful moment ! As they 
drew in each coil, Ronald 
ielt thread after thread giv- 
ing way. "t) Lord! save 
me," was his lirst agonizing cry ; 
and then, "O Lord! comfort my 
dear mother." lie closed his eyes 
on the awful scene as ho felt the 
lopo gradually breaking. He 
iioars the top ; l)iit. oh! tin? rope 
is breaking. Another and an- 
other pull ; then a siiap, and now 
there is but one strand support- 
iiis him. Ho noars the top; his 



his companions, the frantic shriek 
of his foud mother, as they hold 
her back from rushing to try to 
rescue her child from destruction. 
He knows no more; reason yields; 
he becomes insensible. But just 
aa the rope is giving way, a friend 
stretches forward at the risk of 
being dragged over the clill. A 
strong hand grasps him and 
Ronald is saved. 

Dear reader, if you are unsaved, 
I want y.ou, in this true and 
simple narrative, to see your own 
condition. If living lor this world, 
you are frittering away your 
precious moments in pursuing 



save him, which brought him I could lind, and gave him all he 
safely beyond the reach offurther ' wanted, and if you'll believe me, 

danger, and placed him in the Miss, in less than three hours he 

loving arms of his parent ! May drank thrive gallons. The sweat 

the Lord reveal to you, dear un- rolled olf from him like rain, 

saved one, your danger, that you Then ho sank olf, and I thought 
may flee at once to the Saviour of sure ho was gone, but ho was 



sinners. — Friendly Visitor. 

A SAILOR'S STORY. 
I've been fourteen years a sailor, 
Miss AVeston, and I've found that 
in all parts of the world I could 
get along as well without alcholic 
liquors as with them, and better 
too. Some years ago, when we 
lay in Jamaica, several of us were 




THE LAST STRAND OF THE HOPE. 



perishing trifles. By the cor.l of 
life you are suspended over the 
awful abyss of eternal perdition. 
As year after year passes away, 
the rope of life becomes smaller 
and smaller. Strand after strand 
snaps as the knell of each depart- 
ing year tolls its mournful notes. 
How many threads are now loft, 
can you tell ? Do you realize 



Iriends reach over to grasp him; ! your awful position? It cannot 
ho i.s not yet within their reach, j be wor.so. How vividly Ronald 
Oii(> more haul of the rope. It realized his position in thai fear- 
•strains; it unravels under his ! fid moment when the last strand 
weight. Ho looks below at the ' wasgiving way, thread by thread 
dark waste of boiling, falhomless j — when, overcome by the sense 
water, and then above to the of his danger, and when that 
glorious heavens. Ho fools he is ' danger was most imminent, a 
gonig llo hears the wild cry of strong hand was stretched out to 



sick with the fever, and among 
the rest, the second mate. The 
doctor had given him brandy to 
keep him up, but I thought it was 
a queer kind of " keeping up." 
Why, you see, it stands to reason, 
Miss, that if you heap fuel on the 
fire', it will burn the faster, and 
putting the brandy to a fever is 
just the same kind of thing. 
Brandy is nearly half alcohol, you 
know. Well, the doctor gave him 
up, ond I was set to watch him. 
No medicine was left, for it was 
of no use. N 'thing would help 
him, and I had ray directions what 
to do with the body when ho was 
dead. Toward midniRht he asked 
for water. I got him the coolest 



H0NK8TY IN A CHILD. 

In a country school a larce 
class were standing to spell. 
In the lesson there was a 
very hard word. I put the 
word to the scholar at the 
head, and he missed it; I 
passed it to the next, and the 
next, and so on through the 
whole class, till it came to 
the last scholar — the smallest 
of the class — and he spelled 
it right ; at least, I understood 
him so, and he went to the 
head, above seventeen boys 
and girls, all older than him- 
self. I then turned round 
and wrote the word on the 
blackbohrd, so that they 
might all see how it was 
spelled, and learn it better. 
But no sooner had I written 
it than the little boy at the 
head cried out, " O, I didn't 

say it so, Miss W ; I said 

e instead of i," and he went 
back to the foot, of his own 
accord, quicker than he had 
gone to the head. Was not 
he an honest boy V I should 
always have thought he 
spelled it right if he had not 
told mo ; but he was too 
honest to take any credit that 
did not belonu- to him. 



Two Gardeneh.s who were 
neighbors had their crops of early 
peas killed by the frost. One 
of them came to condole with 
the other. "Ah!' cried h.\ 
'■ how unfortunate. Do you 
know, neighbor, that I have done 
nothing but fret ever since. But 
you seem to have a fine healthy 
crop coming up What ar./ 
those?" Why, these are whai 
I sowed immediately after the 
frost." " What ! coming up al- 
ready ? " said the neighbor 
"Yes," replied the other, " while 
you were fretting I was work- 
ing." 



I 
i 



sleeping, and as sweetly as a child. 
In the morning when the doctor 
came, he asked what time the 
mate died. "Won't you go in 
nnd look at him?" said I. He 
went in and took the mate's hand. 
" Why," s,iid he, "the man is not 
dead ! He's alive and doing well! 
What have you been giving him ?" 
•' Water, simply water, and all he 
wanted of it ! " said I. I don't 
know as the doctor learned 
anything from that, but I 
did, and now no doctor puts 
alcoholics down mo, or any of 
my folks, for a fever, I can 
tell you. I am a plain, un- 
lettered man, but I know too 
much to lot any doctor burn 
mo up with alcohol. — British 
Workman 



SH^- 



him all he 
bcliovo mc, 

reo hours ho 
The sweat 

1 liko rain. 
>d I thought 
}ut ho was 
ly as a child. 
II tho doctor 
it timo tho 






1 




REPRINTKD STOHIKS, FHOM THE "NORTIIKUN MKSSKNOKK. 



A STRANGE M151JARY, j 

Tho most mapruitiiMMit of the 
iiiii ly luini)lo8cropto(l In the honor | 
II! I worship of CoiifiuMus is thO| 
(lin'iktl't'kiiifj, which i« IVtMiuoiitcd ] 
hy tho Kinporor, and the highj 
(liliciTH of thi' (fovornini'nt. Ncari 
til this toinpio is an iinincnso |ia- 
vilion in whicii in a Ihrono from 
wliioii tho Kini)oror is accustomed' 
Id confer honors upon certain com- 
pt'titors who havo suc^cessfully 
striven for iho hi<fh"8t literary 
nink. 

On two sides of lhi« imperial 
pavilion, under two 1 mg corri- 
dors, are arranged about two 
liundrfld immense granite tablets 
I'ach seven or eight feet high, and 
of proportionate width and thick- 
ness. On these are engraved the 
entire contents of tho thirteen 
books which constitute the Chi- 
nese Classics. Tho characters are 
neatly cut on the two sides of the 
tnblets. 

It was loundthat, from changes 
in the spoken languar;e and in the 
mole of writing, alterations were 
taking place in iho written copies 
of the classics ; the meaning of 
sentences was becoming uncer- 
tain, and at the same time there 
was a danger of some usurper, in- 
vader, or tyrant attempting to de- 
.stroy the original laws which he 
had broken. This actually hap- 
pened to tho Chinese Classics so 
early as B.O, 221, when a prince 
of Tsin ordered every book to be 
liurned. It was then thought it 
would give greater safety to these 
writings to have them engraved 
on stone : and this was done 
with the whole of tho thirteen 
liooks. 

This is without a parallel in any 
<ountry, and is illustrative of the 
eiceeding veneration of the Chin- 
ese for the writings of Confucius, 
Mencius and the other sages, and 
tlieir anxiety to have them handed 
down unimnred. 

But manv of the people aro 
now accepting the teachings of 
Christ instead of those of Cou- 
liicius, and He must increase 
while the latter must decrease ; 
and the excessive regard of the 
Chinese for their ancient classics 
must give place to veneration and 



love lor the 
Uod. 



revealed Word of 



CIRCUMVENTING THE 
WOLVES. 

BV AUNT FAXNV. 

"Well, children," said Undo 
I'hil, " your big brother Charley 
liever dreamed when he was 
.showing his skilful, bwanliko 
manoeuvres in skating at the rink, 
that his beloved pastime would 
he the means of saving his life." 

" Oh, tell us bU about it I " cried 
Charley's small sister and bro- 
ilers, Dora, Arthur, and Dick. 

" He did not mean us to knovi', 
i hocauss ho does not want to alarm 
u.s, but he wrote tho account to a 
friend, who told it to me this 
morning ; and I shall repeat it to 



you, to show you how much de- 
ponds upon eoolnosH, courage, and 
quickness ot wit in times of dan- 
ger." 

Little Doni climbed upon her 
uncle's knee, and tho boys got as 
close to him as they could, and 
with three pairs of eager eyes 
lastoned on his face, L'ncle I'hil 
began : 

"You know that Charley was 
lent to Iho Northwest on business, 
and you know what a big fellow 
he is — twenty-two years old, and 
full of activity and courage. One 
bitter cold day he and three 
others were driving round the 
borders of an ovcrlTowod forest 
when Charley found that by 
skating through it he could reach 
a point twenty miles distant and 
catch up with his party again. No 
sooner thought of than done. He 
took his gun, I'astened on his 
skates, and with a cheery Htirra ! 
he was ofl at top si>eed. 



aro nearer, their hot breath reach- 
ing him, when — whish I he darted 
around in a beiniliiul circle, and 
ihe shaggy wretches, carried ir- 
resistibly onward by their own 
tremendous i'npelus, (lushed 
ahead in a straight line, while 
('harloy glided oH" at a sharp right 
angle. With a united howl and 
that awlul snap of their leolh, the 
ne.\t minute they found him out, 
crowded furiously on each other, 
turned, and were tearing after 
him again in their long, slouching, 
tireless gallop. 

" Over and over again did Char- 
ley bafllo them with his skating 
(eat of the circle, and then away 
at right angles. Over an<l over, 
till the bold brutal creatures in 
their rage began to bite and snap 
at each other, and with howls uf 
disappointment to waver and to 
wonder if this were not a ghost, 
a shadow of a man, a hungry 
dream of human flesh, which they 






81 




THE CHINESE CLASSICS ENGRAVED ONTWO HUNDUEDTABI.ES OFSTONE. 



" Racing away, and enjoying it 
immensely, he reaohedthe midst 
of the forest, when all of a sudden 
he came upon a hungry, howling, 
pack of wolves I With a simul- 
taneous clash of their sharp teeth, 
which sounded liko the snapping 
of a hundred steel traps, they 
were upon him. Charles threw 
away his gun, tore off his heavy 
overcoat, and whizzed away for 
dear life. 

" It soon became apparent to 
him that his swiftest speed would 
never leave tho raging wolves 
behind. They were almost lly- 
Mig, tho long black hair on their 
spines standing up stiff and 
savage; but Charley was a prac- 
tised and splendid skater, and ho 
also flew at a desperate speed, 
and ho never lost hope or cour- 
age. 

" On camo the wclves full tilt, 
furious and ravenous. Now they 



were finding at all points of the 
compass and losing again ; while 
round and round went tho skater, 
with a cool head, a keen eye, 
and clenched fists, working 
nearer and nearer tho edge of the 
forest, till at last the clearing and 
the road became visible, and his 
blood-thirsty pursuers with 
furious howls of disappointment 
fell back into the thick of the 
wood." 

"O h!"sighed tho little 

ones, whose eyes had been grow- 
ing big and bigger with interest 
and fear. " Vro'ro so glad brother 
Charley got oil safe !' 

" Yes," said Uncle Phil ; " and 
you boys had better practise all 
tho fa.shionablo figures in skating 
so as to be ready for the wolves, 
too." 

" Oh, yes, yes I " shouted tho 
boys, and straightway turned a 
summersault each on the carpet. 



in their delight at the prospect o 
lighting wolves. 

" Me want to 'kati', and fwite 
wooves, too," said little Dora. 

" Ah, rosebud ! " cried her 
uncle, holding her tight to his 
breast, " we must all take caro 
that no wolves, two-legged or 
four, ever como near you. Wo 
must keep our little lamb safe at 
homo." — Christian I 'nion. 



CONVERTED ItY A TELE- 
GRAM. 

A younir telegrni>h-operator in 
an English provincial town was 
anxious about his soul. Bat he 
could not have gue.sHed that a 
message would reach him as it 
did. lie had been sleepless all 
night, thinking of his need of a 
Saviour, and in the morning he 
went to his work with his heart 
uttering the publican's prayer 
The sunny weather and beauty 
of Summer scenery did not en- 
gage him now, for he was longing 
after that peace of God which the 
Christian feels. 

Absorbed with his desire, he 
continued to pray — " (tod be 
merciful to me a sinner," and was 
constantly repeating the words, 
when the click of the si<rnal told 
him his olRco was called. He 
look his place at the instrument, 
and quickly and with unusual 
emotion spelled his message from 
" Herbert, ' nt Windermere, to J. 
B., at Warkworth : 

" Behold the Lamb of (rod, 
which taketh away the sins of 
the world." "In whom we havo 
redemption through His blood, 
the forgiveness of sins according 
to the riches of His grace.'' 

Such a telegram as that the 
young man had never known to 
pass the wires before. It was 
sent to a servant-girl, who, in her 
distress of mind, had written a 
letter to her brother " Herbert," 
at tho Lakes, but it proved a, 
double benediction, for it came to 
the operator as a direct reply 
from Heaven to his prayer. He 
accepted it as such, and his faith 
saw and rested in the Lamb of 
God. 

Meanwhile the golden telegram 
went to its destination, and 
brought peace to the anxious soul 
of the poor servant-^irl. It saved 
two instead of one. And those 
words are living words still, and 
as potent to bless and save — not 
only two, but ten thousand 
times ten thousand. — CInislian 



Hmild. 



I In Answering the question, 
^ " How to havo a revival in your 
j school," William Reynolds once 
'wrote; Pray for it; expect it; 
I work for it; make it the one thing 
! from this time till it comes. Ac- 
! cording to your faith be it unto 
'you. Get every teacher in your 
school to pray daily lor an out- 
pouring of ihe Spirit on each class. 
Have a prayer-meeting of all 
teachers and scholus. 



i 



r 



82 



RKPRINTEI) STORIES, FROM THK " NORTH l-HN MESSENC.KR. 



^HQ 



PARADISE FLYOATCHRR 

These birds are very beautiful 
creatures found in ditferent parts 
of Asia, particularly in India. The 
body of the bird is some six 
inches long, while the tail is 
thirteen or fourteen inches. The 
bird's head and crest are bright 
steely green; the upper part of 
the body is white, curiously 
streaked with a narrow black 
line down the centre of each 
feather. The quill-feathers are 
white, edged with black. The 
tail-ieathers are white, with black 
(hafts. 

These birds, sometimes from 
their shape called Rocket Birds, 
are very restless, Sitting from 
branch to branch, or darting 
rapidly ailer their prey. One of 
these birds will perch upon some 
lofty branch, and when it sees an 
insect passing within easy reach, 
will make a sudden swoop upon 
it, catch it with a hard snap of 
the beak, which can be heard at 
some distance, and return to its 
post, ready for another object of 
prey. 

Theso flycatchers are rather 
solitary in their habits. Qenerally 
there is no more than a single 
family of them together at a time, 
and sometimes they will be found 
alone. 

The study of these different 
birds is very interesting. It shows 
us the wisdom and power of God, 
the wondrous skill with which he 
fits these little creatures, to find 
their living and take care of them- 
selves.— C/ii7rf's Paper. 

JOHN WELCH AND THE 
FRIAR. 

The celebrated John Welch, tlie 
minister of Ayr, was compelled, 
in the year 1606, to fly to France 
to escape the anger of the Scottish 
kin^, James VI. While he was 
minister in one of the French 
villages, a friar came to his house 
asking to be lodged for the night. 
He was kindly entertained and 
had a bedroom assigned to him 
adjoining that of the minister. 

Happening to awake during 
the night, he heard a continuous 
whispering, which troubled him 
not a little, ascribing it to evil 
spirits haunting the Protestant 
house. • 

Walking abroad next day, a 
peasant saluted him, and asked 
him how he did. 

" Where loc'ged you last 
ni!,'ht ? " 

" With the Huguenot minister," 
said the friar. 

" What sort of entertainment 
had you?" asked the peasant. 

" V cry bad ; I always believed 
that these Huguenot houses were 
haunted; but I never proved it till 
last night. There was a con- 
tinual whisper in the room next 
mine, and I am sure it was the 
devil and the minister talking to- 
gether." 

" You are mistaken," said the 
peasant, " it was the minister at 
his night prayers." 



" What I does the minister 
pray 1 " 

" Yes ; more than any man in 
France ; and if you will stay 
another night, you may make 
sure." 

The friar returned to the llu- 

?;uenot house, and bogged lodging 
or another night, which was at 
once granted. 

" Before dinner," says tho old 
narrative, "Mr. Welch came down 



The evening came, and with it 
the "evening exercise," quite like 
that of the morning, to the friar's 
yet itruater wonder. 

They 8Ui)ped and went to bed. 
But the friar was resolved to keep 
awake and hear tho strange sounds 
which he had heard tho night be- 
fore. He went and put his ear to 
the door to satisfy himself as to 
what the sound really was. 

" Then," writes the old bio- 




PARADISE FLYCATCHEH. 



from his chamber and made his 
family exercise according to hi.s 
wont. He sang a psalm ; he read 
a portion of Scripture, comment- 
ing on it; and then prayed." 

The friar looked and listened 
with astonishment. Dinner was 
then served, and the friar was 
kindly entertained ; the good Hu- 
guenot minister asking no ques- 
tions and entering on no disputes. 



grapher, " he heard not only the 
sound but the very words ; and in 
those words communications be- 
tween man and God, such as he 
had never believed to be in this 
world." 

The day broke, and Mr. Welch 
came out of his room. The friar 
went to him, bewailed his ignor- 
ance, and asked instructio);. 
Kindly did the minister receive 



him, bidding him welcome in the 
nameofOod, and showing him 
tho true light which had been so 
long hidden from him. That light 
enleiod his soul, and in it he 
walked till his dying hour. — 
Set. 

"THE MASTER SAID SO." 

About UOO years before Christ, 
there arose in Greece one of its 
earliest and greatest philosophers, 
Pythagoras by name, whose 
authority with his followers was 
so supreme that they seldom, if 
ever, allowed themselves to ques- 
tion his positions; and the ex- 
pression " The Master said so," 
settled every disputed point, and 
silenced all objections. This was 
the legitimate power of a great 
mind. 

But a far greater than Pytha- 
goras once visited our earth, who 
propounded principles, authorized 
sentiments, issued commands, and 
laid down laws for his people 
and followers which should be to 
them the end of all controversy ; 
and are so, in fact, when they are 
right-minded ; as, at a certain 
time, when the fishermandisciples 
had toiled all night and caught 
nothing, yet, upon the direction 
of their Master to let down their 
neta, they answered, by the mouth 
of Simon. "Nevertheless, at thy 
word, we will lot down the net." 
" And when they had this done, 
they enclosed a great multitude 
of fashes." No one ever lost any- 
thing by embracing a sentiment 
or performing an act " at Christ's 
word." 

When a cavilling world asks, 
"Why send abroad your choice 
young men and maidens among 
the heathen?" the all-sufficient 
answer is, " The Master said so." 
" Go ye into all the world, and 
preach the gospel to every 
creature." To every creature? 
At home, as well as abroad ? Yes : 
for so saith the Master. " For I 
must go into the next town, 
and preach the gospel there 
also." 

Shall I confess Christ before 
men ? Shall I join the church, and 
frequent the Lord's table ? Shall 
I be for him, and not against him, 
in the world ? Shall I take his 
yoke fully upon me, and follow 
him all my life long, in the regen- 
eration of this world? Yes, yes; 
for so he advises, exhorts, and 
commands me. — American Messen- 
ger. 



The Rev. E. E. Hale once said : 
I am tired of hearing people say 
that they prefer to worship God 
in the fields in summer, by the 
side of some babbling brook. 
What if they do ! We are not per- 
mitted to live for our own plea- 
sures but for the glory of God 
and the good of the world. United 
worship in the sanctuary makes 
the world better. Therefore we 
have no choice in the matter. It 
is our duty to attend the house 
of God regularly. 



Qll-9® 



n 



m^- 



r 



KKI'KINTKI) STOUIKS. KKOM TIIK " NORTH KUN MKSSKNCKR." 



THE MANTIS. 



Thero aro pluiity ol' hypocriti- 
cal inmi and womon, ami some 
liypocritieiil chiUlron, I am afraid, 
hut I iitiV('r hoard of inoro than 
niio ini>rahor of tho unthinking 
proation who had that worst oif 
Inults, and ho, poor wrotch, was 
probably falsely accused, the vic- 
tim of appearances and the super- 
xtitions fancies of narrow-minded 
people. 

In most warm countries there 
is found a little insect called the 
mantis. I should think, from the 
cnfi^ravinffB I have seen, that 
Horne varieties look something like 
grasshoppers, and one kind I have 
read about has the color and ap- 
pearance of withered leaves 
when lying motionless upon the 
ground. 

I read of him first in a poem, in 
which, it is said, "The mantis 
clasps his hands in prayer," and 
never before having heard of so 
pious an insect, I was interested 
to discover something more of 
his character. It seems that in 
the middle ages he was believed 
to be really a very wise and 
knowing creature. If lost chil- 
dren encountered a mantis they 
had only to inquire the road and 
the little insect would stretch out 
one of its long feelers, or fore- 
paws, and point in the right di- 
rection. Or if a mantis came 
across a child playing truant, and 
taking a walk in the country in- 
stead of going to school, it would 
point out warningly the way the 
naughty scholar ought to take to 
return to his duty. 

This was all very well. But 
the mantis had a horrible appe- 
tite. The appetite of a real can- 
nibal, and the sight of another 
mantis so overcame both parties 
that they attacked each other vio- 
lently for the sake of a dinner ; 
and after a terrific combat if one 
was left alive he revived his 
drooping strength by a hearty 
meal on the mangled remains of 
his foe. Then, when all was 
over, and one insect had found a 
grave within the other, it is said 
the victor raised himself as if 
about to walk on his hind legs, 
and folding his long forepaws, ap- 
peared to give thanks for his 
pleasant repast ; so that passers- 
by, seeing this attitude of devo- 
tion might believe him to be an 
insect-saint, until in course of 
time they discovered his dreadful 
habits. A mantis could never get 
L'nough to eat ; probably because 
he was obliged to fight so hard 
for every mouthful. 

But sometimes they need not 
absolutely kill their friends or 
<>nemies in o'der to obtain a meal 
of mantis ricat, for if in the duel 
they shov.ld both lose a limb 
and then c.epart in jieace to o" 
Iho delicto bone, by the 
they met again new lim' 
have grown to take th. , .. 
tho old, such is their ea.sy nature. 

An old traveller in China says 
that in summer the littlo Chinese 



boyn keep those insects in cages ourselves to cross it, and found 
for the purpose of seeing thom that wo wore walking on an as- 
light, which i« (luito as exciting to phall pavomont slightly softonod 
them and on tiio name principle on the surface by the groat hoat — 
as a cock-fight. 1 do not know just as the pavement of this ma- 
whothor they allow them to feast torial in our home cities is on a 
after the battle, as their natural , hot summor day. Hero and 
feeling would dictate. — Ex. : there the surface was rout by lis- 

_^ I suros which were filled with 

I clear water, and seemed to go 
j down to great depths. Some of 

The editor of the Mitsionarif thetn we could stop over, othorK 
Re'-orrf of the United Presbyterian had to bo crossed by moans of 
church, in writing of his visit to planks which our guides carriod 
the missions in the island of Trini- for the purpose. As we noared 
dad, thus describes his visit to the I the centre, it was necessary to 
remarkable Pitch Lake. | proceed with caution ; the soft- 

On the following day we took ness on the surface increased, 
the grand excursion of the neigh- and at last we came to places 



^ 



AN ASPHALT LAKE. 



borhood, and in company with 
several friends belonging to the 
congregation visited tne famous 
Pitch Lake. We went by the 
coasting steamer — a sail of about 
two hours, and landed by small 
boats at La Brea, where the as- 
phalt is melted, put into barrels, 
and shipped. As our readers can 
imagine, the industry carried un 



where the pitch oozed up in li 
quid form, and sent forth as from 
some witch's caldron, an evil 
odor. The source from which 
the pitch comes seems inexhaust- 
ible. We were told that hun- 
dreds of tons can be dug out, and 
in the course of a few hours the hole 
from which they have been dug 
will be filled up, and the surface 




^WA^WS»tfl()B>?«ir 



THE CIROLINA MANTIS. ITS EOQ CLT78TKR. 



does not render the place attrac- 
tive, but we had come to see a 
marvel of nature, and not its 
beauties. We gladly accepted an 
invitation from the manager of 
the works to drive to the lake, 
though the conveyance provided 
for lis was an asphalt-cart, in 
which our party managed to dis- 
pose themselves on such chairs 
and stools as the ofiico could fur- 
nish. The black and dusty in- 
cline up which we drove under 
the blistering heat, is bordered 
by a luxuriant tropical growth, 
amid which we could see the 
richest pine-apples, the volcanic 
heat of the soil being especially 
adapted for the production of 
this fruit. When we reached the 
lake, the aspect which it present- 
ed was that of a loch at home dur- 
ing a black frost, with patches of 
water here and there that have 
oozed up through cracks in the 
ice, the expanse being broken by 
islands covered with a scrubby 
vegetation. Being assured that 
the lake was ' bearing,' we set 



as level as before. Our excursion 
on the lake was interesting ; it 
could not b« said to be exhilarat- 
ing. The vertical rays of the sun 
were reflected on us from every 
side, the odor which filled the 
air produced a sickly sensation, 
and the glare hurt the eyes. We 
had read in our Kingsley that 
the traveller crossing the lake in- 
to the woods on the further shore 
passed ' in a single step out of an 
Inferno into Paradise' We ac- 
cordingly resolved to eat our 
lunch in paradise, but when we 
reached the wood we searched 
in vain for the ' cool fragrant 
shade, among the pillars of a 
temple to which the Parthenon 
is mean and small,' by his descrip- 
tion of which the great word- 
painter has lured us on. We 
found instead interminable bush 
through which we had to force 
our toilsome way, with frequent 
scratchings of the skin, and un- 
comfortable thoughts of veno-l 
mous snakes, that might be pre- ' 
paring' to spring upon us from be- 1 



&^ 



iioath the leafy covert. Wo wore 
lain to rocrosH tho lako, roniouut 
our ('art, and gel oursolvi's drivori 
back to Iho Nhiiro, whrro, iindcr 
tho safor sholtiT of a woodon 
shanty, wo partook of our ptovis- 
ionH. and awaited tho return of 
the steamer. 

A LITTLE BEHIND. 
" Forty years ago I knew two 
smart boys, holpors in a grocory- 
storo. Thoy were brothers. They 
seeniod to be made of steel 
springs, so quick, prompt and de- 
cisive wore they in filling every 
order, They were poor boys, 
apprentices then. But they 
worked as if the concern was 
their own, and success depended 
on their energy, push and faith- 
fulness. Now they live on one of 
the fashionable avenues of Now 
York in their own large man- 
sions, retired from the grocery 
business iu which thoy made 
their fortunes. Holding import- 
ant trusts, thoy are useful and re- 
spected citizens and Christians, 
They owe their success solely, 
under God, to their own prompt- 
ness in performing every promise, 
in being always ahead rather 
than behind time. And there are 
mechanics and tradesmen with 
whom I once had dealings and 
now have deserted, because they 
never would fulfil an order in sea- 
son, would not send a thing home 
when they promised, and in- 
variably kept me waiting what- 
ever might be my distress to be 
served. This vice runs in the 
blood sometimes, and whole 
families are distinguished by tak- 
ing it easy, ' time enough yet.' be- 
ing their motto and rule. They 
drop behind in the race of life. 
They would bo run over if some 
one did not pick them up and 
help them on. Half the world 
has this work to do, besides doing 
its own. In the absence of posi- 
tive orime, this habit of taking it 
easy causes the poverty and fail- 
ure of the greater part of the hu- 
man family. With the same 
chances, with equal health and 
wits, in the same field, one man 
succeeds and another makes a 
dead failure. And why ? Bo- 
cause one took time by the fore- 
loek, was ever prompt, and there- 
fore prosperous. The other was 
always a little behindhand, and 
by-and-by so far behind as to be 
counted out as of no account. — 
Irenccus. 

Yot' ARE di.sappointod. Do you 
remember, if you lose heart about 
your work, that none of it is lost; 
that the good of every good deed 
remains, and breeds, and works 
on forever; and all that fails and 
is lost is tho outside shell of the 
thing; which, i)orhaps, might 
have been better done, but, bettor 
or worse, has iiotliing to do with 
the real spiritual good which you 
have dom; to men's hearts, for 
which God will surely repay you 
in his own way and time. — 
Charhs Kiii'j:sley. ^ 



W 







IMAGE EVALUATION 
TEST TARGET (MT-3) 










S§ 



1.0 



I.I 



BiU£ |2.S 

inv 

2.2 






^ lllllio 



im 



1-25 1.4 1.6 




^ ^ 


6" 


► 



V] 



OQ 






"^y" 

V 



/ 







Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 




\ 



>v 



LV 



k 




•NJ 






N> 








o^ 



':^'^^ 



23 WEST MAIN STREET 

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 

(716) 87a-4S03 



f^ 



REPRINTED STORIKS. FROM TIIK " NORTH EKN MESSENGER." 






principally with cru8B-l>owM nnd 
arrows, and thfHe window-niches 
furnished atuiiding room I'ur six or 



for tho outsiders to 
arrows where they 



impossible 
send their 
would take effect 

The towers are full of crooked 
passagi'N and narrow, stone stair- 
cases, with rooms of all sizes and 
shapes Entering the door at the 
end of the path and passing up 
the worn and broken stone steps, 
I almost lost my way in dark 



CARNARVON CASTLE. 

BY NKTTIB H. WIU30X. 

When England became a settled 
kingdom, with a number of di- 
visions whose princes went 
Under the English king, and 
whose people paid dues to him, 
Wales was one of those divisions, 
and at times the Welsh were very 
troublesome, refusing to pay dues, 
or sabmit to the will of the king. 
Castles were built and given to 
English nobles, to whom was 
allowed all the land they could 
seise from the Welsh, and the 
people were oppressed in various 
ways, till Llewellyn bncame 
Prince of North Wales. When 

Henry III., a boy only nine years galleries, where the chattering of 
old, was crowned, Llewellyn ac- the birds which have appropriated 
knowledged him as kin?, and for the dcop windows for their nests, 
fifty-six years rendered obedience and the sound of my own foot- 
to him as superior sovereign; hut steps re-echoed till I had hardly 
when Edward L became king, courage to complete the ascent. 
Llewellyn at last threw ofT the At last it grew lighter, and I 
yoke, aiid resisted sturdily. He ' found myself in the open space 
was finally forced to submit ; 
but falling in an encounter 
with an English knight, his 
brother David, claiming to be 
legal sovereign of North 
Wale., summoned a council of 
Welsh chieftains at Denbigh, a 
little town in the north of 
Wales. They determined to 
commence hostilities against 
the English, but were not 
successful. David waa "m- 
prisoned, and this was the end 
ot Welsh indopendence. 

Wales was united to Eng- 
land, and Edward I. deter- 
mined to secure tho submission 
and willing obedience of its 
people It is said he promised 
them a prince who could not 
speak a work of English. Now, 
he had a baby-boy who was 
alter ward Edward II. ; he pre- 
sented him as the promised 
prince, and, ever since, the 
oldest son of the English king 
is called the Prince of Wales, 

This little prince lived in 
Carnarvon, the lar<rest of the 
one hundred and forty-three 
castles in North Wales, aii<l it 



fought and castles defended room. The old histories say he 



was horn in the tower, but there 
aro always people who like to 
spoil a good story, and those say 



eight men, whoiii turn discharged he was three years old when 

their arrows at the enemy. | brought there, I like the old 

It was very easy forthem, close story, so I asked a guide to show 

to tho narrow openings, to aim mo where the prince was born, 



the Kagle and Royallowers, indi- 
cated now only by a line of stones 
left for the purpose. The kitche ns 
were directly opposite, and (he 
places which years ago held the 
boilers are still to be seen, as is 
also the end of the leaden water 
pipe away back in the walls: 



n 



carefully at the enemy, but almost Entering the snrae door, we | trophy hunters have carried away 



climbed the steps till we reached 
the room in the seconil story, 
lighted by the narrow window to 
thi> left of the door. The little 
square window just alioveitlighted 
the "confessional," a little niche 
ill the wall still holding the re- 
ceptacle for holy water. This 
room passed, we went clear 
around the tower, till we came 
through the narrowest of '.ill 
passages to a room only leu feet 
by twelve. This was certainty 



the room of Queen Eleanor and vals, a p^rt of the town ot 



the first Prince of Wi'les, whether 
ho was born there, or brought 
when a very small boy. Back of 
(he window is a narrow door 




CARNARVilN I'A.XTIiB 



i: 



of the beautiful ruin of this cantle 
that I will first tell you. 

It is on a high hill in the west- 
em part of Wales ; climbing the 
hill you come upon a huge mass 
of gray stone, with immense 
towers ; on two sides surrounded 
by ;i river, while a moat or ditch 
protects the other two. Oriifiii- 
all\ there were thirteen towers; 
five have lalleii, and the stone.s 
have been carried away liy the 
inhai)itant8 of the town lu build 
their quaint little hou.ses 

The castle has only narmw 
opening.s for windows on llie out- 
side ; these are not iimre than 
four inches wide, but the wiills are 
ten feet thickand the window.iare 
five or six feet wide on tlie inside, 
the sic'es slanting dose toirelher 
through the thicknoKsof iIk; wall 
as they get near the outside, thus 
forming a kind of room in each 
window. 

In those days, battles were 

W 



between the two smaller towers. 

In the centre of the main 
tower, in the good old times, there 
were live rooms, one above an- 
other. The lldor.s have lallen. 
and, looking over the inner wall, 
I could si'e only the holen where 
lloor-beams had rested, and a 
heap 111 ruiiiN at ihi; bottom 
.'Vround these central hall.s, which 
must have been lighted by arti- 
licial i.ieans, were smaller rooms, 
and staircases only wide enough 
for one jier.soii to pass. At the 
end of each .sliilrcase is a iloor, so 
that, y^ranliiiL; lln' enemy .siir 
ceeded in lorcimj passaife to the 
court, — a laiye obloiiu' square iii 
the centre ol the castle, — a single 
soldier could defend such a 
narrow slaiiccne and yd be sale 
hinuelf. 

I suppose boys would climb to 
the top of the small lower wlie-e 
llag-staff stands. I did not care 
to do so, BO I went down and be- j 



TRUE POLITENESS. 

A poor Arab going through 
the desert met with a sparkling 
spring. Accustomed to brack- 
ish water, a draught from this 
sweet well in the wilderness 
seemed, in his simple mind, a 
present to the caliph, So he 
till tho leathern bottle, and, 
after a weary tramp, laid his 
gift at his ; -^eereign's feet. 

The monarcL wit'i a mag- 
nanimity that mav imt many a 
Christian to blufth, called for a 
which opens ui>oii a walk upon i cup and drank freely, and then 
(he walls, called Queen Ele^.nor's with a smile thanked the Arab 



walk. She could go outside the 
i.'astte walls, and it would not be 
pleasant for her in the court with 



and presented him with a re- 
ward. 

The courtiers pressed eagerly 
•^'ildii-r.t passing to and fro, and around for a draught of the won- 
her only exercise out-of-doors had I derful water which was regarded 
to be taken on this narrow path, j as worthy such a princely ac- 
Wheii the Wi''!s wen> in repair | knowledgment. To their surprise, 
she could walk from this tower to! the caliph forbade them touch a 
the next, through that to another I drop. Then after tho simple- 
wall, and .so (in around tho castle, hearted giver left the royal pre- 
iMilering back ol the confessional, selice, with a now spring of )oy 
1 lollowi-d the walk a little way, , Welling up in his heart, the moii- 
aiid was triad enough that I was | arch explained his motive of pro- 
iiot (:oin|ii'lie(l like the poor hibition. 

" i)uring the long journey, the 
water in hl.s leather bottle had be- 
come iinpiiri) and di.stasteful , but 
It wa.s an ollering ot love, and as 
such 1 accepteil it with pleasure. 
1 feared, however, that if I al- 
to taste it. 



queen, to take all my Iresliairon 
a i>ath two leet wi<le on laclle 
Willis. Tliis towiT, calleil lOairle 
Tower, was the slronsfeNl of the 
lliirleeii, and for this ri'iisoii the 
(|uuen was placed in it; the next, 
to the left, was the Royal Tower, 
and the enemy would naturally 
go tliere to look for the baby 
prince. The banqueting hall 



gr.n a search for Prince Edward's I occupied the space 



lowed another to taste it, hi 
wonid not conceal his disgust. 
Therefore it was that I forbade you 
to partake lest the heart of the 



as much of it as their arms could 
reach. Tho castle was entered 
by two gates ; the king's gate, .^r 
general entrance, and one smaller 
but more beautiful, through 
which Queen Eleanor first en- 
tered Carnarvon. This gale is 
ihemost picturesqno pa't of the 
castle, being partially in ruins 
and covered with ivy and wall- 
ilowers. 

Around the whole were high 
walls with towers at inter- 



Carnarvon being now built within 

them. 

But I think boys care less for 

the history of these old rums 
than for the pleasure ol climb- 
ing around them. It is jiossi ble 
that tho account of Carnarvon 
at least may lead some ol you 
to study enough of English his- 
tory so that, when yon cross 
the Atlantic and have the op- 
portunity to see what now you 
read ol, you will not have to 
depend upon poor guides, or 
spend half your time in hunt- 
ing up why and by whom 
the grand old castles were 
built,— 6/. Nirholas. 



between I poor man would be wounded." il 

— «Hi 



J 






HOW 



A BIRD orTWITTED] 
THE MONKEYS. 



RKPRINTEI) STORIES, FROM THK " NOUTriERN MESSENGER." 



85 



BY 



ERNKBT IN0RR80M. 
NICHOLAS. 



IN HT. 



' Of all the hant;ini^ lu'st^ com- 



would !ot himsolf down froin if, 
^raspini; \t liiinly with his hands; 
tht'ii another monkuy would orawl 
dowit uiiil hold on tu the hcols of 
th.t lirst one, uuothi-r would go 
below him, und so on until »ev«r- 



mcndme to that inadcol y^rass by |al wor.i haiiifing to each other, 
tho baya sparrow oflndia. Itisandtho lowest one could leach 
one of tho most perfect bird- 1 tho Kpurrow'.s treasuri-K. lie 
houses I know of, nndseemii only would eiit them all hinisell, and 
to need a firu-place to make it a then one )>)' one tln-y would 
real house. Its shape and mode I climb up over each other ; and 
of attachment at the top to the last of all the tired lirst one, who 
end of the limb are shown in the hiul been holding up the weight 
picture. It is entered through the of aII the rest, would Ret up, too, 
lonit neck at the lower end. The and all would go noisily off in 
l)ed for the fggs rests in the bulb 
or expansion at the middle of the 
nest, where there are actually two 



" The sparrow has fairly out- , ment. Turning toward her, ho 

witted thts monkey !" 'saw that she waa looking through 

TTrvi.r . ...-,.*„ „,_. „,,_ two lenses, one held close to her 

HOW A LITTLE GIRL SUO- Lve and the other at arms lencrth 

OESTKDTHE INVENTION lJJ^"^,!,,^"^^,^"^^^^^ 

OF THK TELESCOPE. Lja^' he noticed that the eye-lens 

Some of tho mobt important dis- 

have been made 



rooms, (or the male has a perch 
divided olf from the female by n 
little partition, where he may sit 
and sing to her in rainy weather, i 
or when the sun shines very hot, ' 
and where ho may rest at night. 
The walls are a iirm lattice-work ] 
of grass, neatly woven together, : 
which permits the air to pass 
through, but does not allow the I 
birds to be seen. The whole nest I 
is from fourteen to eighteen I 
inches long, and six inches wide 
at the thickest part. It is hung 
low over the water, — why, we 
shall presently see, — and its only 
entrance is through the hanging 
neck. ' 

" Why do bird!< build hanging 
nests ? 

"Those bird.s lliat do make 
hanging nests, undonbtt.dly do it 
because they think them the .sal- 
est. Hird's eggs are delicacie.s on 
the bill of faro of several nnimalf, 
and are eagerly nought by them. 
Snakes, lor instance, live almost 
entirely upon them, daring the '^ 
month of Juno ; squirrels eat : 
them, raccoons also, and opossums, ' 
cats, rats, and mice. But none of; 
these animals could creep out to 
the pliant, wavy end^ of the wil- 
low branches or elm twigs, and I 
cling there long enough to get at 
the contents of a Baltimore oriole's 
nest. I 

" In the country where the baya 
sparrow lives, there are snakes 
and opossums, and all the rest of 
the egg-eaters ; and in addition 
there are troops of monkeys, which 
are more to be feared than all tho 
rest together. Monkeys aro won- 
derfully expert climbers, from 
whom the eggs in an ordinary 
open-top pouch nest, like the ori- 
ole's, would not be secure ; for if 
they can get anywhere near, they 
will reach their long, slender 
lingers down inside the nest. The 
baya sparrow discovered this, ^ 
iiid learned to build a nest in- knew 
' loscd on all sides, and tr> enter it monk 
from underneath by a neck too his sleek 
ong for a monkey toconveniently I rather go hungry. !><) sho liung 



was plano-concave (or flat on one 
covenes liave been made an-; aide and hollowed out on the 
cidentally , and it has happened ; other), while the one held at a 
to more than one inventor, who distance was piano convex (or flat 
hft<llongbeensearchiiigaftersome on one side and bulging on the 
new combination or material for other). Then taking tho two 
carrying out a pet idea, to hit np- ] glacses, he repeated his daughter's 
on tho right thing at last by mere experiment, and soon discovered 
chance. A lucky insUnce ol this that she had chanced to hold the 
kind was the discovery ot the lenses apart at their exact focus, 
search of fresh plunder, which, 1 ] principle of the telescope, and this had produced the won- 

suppose would be even to a dil- 1 .Nearly three hundred yearsago, Jerful eflect that she had ob- 
served. His quick wit and skilled 




invention saw in this accident a 
wonderful discovery. He im- 
mediately set nbout making use 
of his new knowledge of lenses, 
and ere long he had fashioned a 
I tube of pasteboard, in which he 
jset the glasses hrmly at their ex- 
i act focus. 

I This rough tube was the germ 

I of that great instrument the tele- 

{ scope, to which modern science 

I owes so much. And it was on 

October 22, 1608, that Lipper- 

Isheim sent ta his government 

three telescopes made by himself, 

calling them " instruments by 

means of which to see at a dis- 

! tance," 

! Not long anerward another 
mem, Jacob Adriansz, or Metius, 
of Alkmaar, a l(.\vn i.tiotit twenty 
miles from Ainstordaiu, claimed 
to have discovered the principle 
of the telescope two year? earlier 
than Hans Lippersheim;and it is 
generally acknowledged that to 
one cf these two men belongs tho 
honor of inventing the instrument. 
But it seems certain that Hans 
Lippersheim had never known 
nor heard of the discovery made 
by Adriansz,and so.if Adriansz had 
not lived we still should owe to 
Hans Lippersheim's quick wit, 
and his little daughter's lucky 
, meddling, one of the most ralu- 
{ able and wonderful of human in- 
I ventions. — St. Nicholas. 



THE NKHT OK THE BAYA 81'ABROW 



I'erent one, tho rest makiiii? alad- 
ilor for him as before. 

•• Now the runiiiiiif l>aya wpar- 
row saw a way to avoid even 
this (laiigcroiis Irickory, She 
iiothinij a 
y a.s to ui't 
wet. He woulil 



Bananas. — Few people who see 
bananas hanging in the shops of 
fruit dealers think of them as more 
than a tropical luxury. The iact is, 
they are a staple article ot food in 
sjmo parts of the world ; and, ac- 
cording to Humboldt, an acre of 
there was living in the town of bananas will produceasmuch food 
Middelburir, on the island of Wal- (or a man ft.s twenty-live acres of 
chereii, in the Netherlands, a poor wheat, It is the ease with which 
opticaiinami'd Hans Lippersln'im. bananas are ifiown that is tho 



that there was 
y hated ."o terribl 



coat 



i 



ri'ach up through. Beside this, 
she took the precaution to hang it 
out on tho very tips of light 
l)rancheR, ujwn which she thought 
iiu robber would dare trust him- 
self. But she found that the mon- 
keys 'knew a trick worth two o 
iliat.' They would go to a higher 
limb which was strong, and one 

» 



her nest over the water dose to 
the surface, and the agil thieve.s 
do not dare make a ctiaiii long 
enough to enable the last one to 
reach up into her nest from below, 
as he must do, for fear that tho 
springy branches might bend so 
far as to souse them into the 
water. 



i>ne day, in the year 1608, he 
was workiuir in his shop, his 
i-liildreii helpiiiir him in various 
small wuvs, or rompinir about 
and amiisiiiu; themselves witli the 
toolsandobjects lying on his work- 
bench, wh(?n suddenly his little 
ijirl exclaimeil : 



•treat ob.stacle to eiviliisation in 
some tropical countries. It is so 
easy to obtain a living without 
work that no effort will ever bo 
made, and the nn'ii become lazy 
and shiftless. Ail that is needed 
is to stick a sucker into the ground, 
and it will at once sprout and 



" Oh. I'apa ! See how near the grow, and ripen its fruit in twelve 
steeple comes !" or thirteen months without fnr- 

llalf-startled by this announce- ther care, each plant having from 
ment, the honest Hans looked up 75 to ISo bananas ; and, when that 
from his work, curious to know dies down after fruiting, new 
the cause of the child's amaze- 1 suckers spring up to take its place 



i\ 



-i^'vitt 






8I-. 



REPRINTElJ STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER. 




FIO. 



HOW PLANTS COME FROM 
SEEDS. 

BY ANMIE J, MACKINTOSH. 

We are ^ns^ to auist you in 
finding ont yonrselves some oftho 
wonderfnl thinfts connected with 
the life and growth of plants ; and 
if you will try the simple experi> 
ment here mentioned, yon will 
rarely be interested, and, besides, 
will learn a great deal that you 
onght to know. 

Let us begin at the beginning, 
then ; and as most plants grow 
from seeds, we shall talk first 
about seeds. 

We will suppose that yon hare 
collected a few seeds, such as may 
be easily obtained— peas, beans, 
grains of wheat, com, ice. Of 
course yon have a penknife in 
your pocket ; and if, in addition to 
the knife, you can hare a small 
magnifying glass, many o< your 
lessona will be much more in- 
teresting. 

Take a bean 

first (Fig. 1),and 

with your knife 

remnro the skin, 

which is called 

the seed - coat. 

You will find 

that the bean 

separates into 

I. — A SPLIT halres as soon 

BEAN. as the corering 

is remored. Now, each part is 

called a lobe, and seeds which 

naturally split in two are called 

two-lobed. 

Take a grain of com, and treat 
it in the same way. It does not 
split: if you want to part it, yon 
must cut it. Seeds which do not 
split in two are called undirided ; 
and yon will find that all iseeds 
belong to one or other of these 
classes. 

Now examine those from which 
you hare removed the seed-coats, 
and yon will find at the end of 
each a small worm-like object 
(Fig. 1,0, ami '-'ig. 
•2, a), whicn may 
easily be removod 
with the point of 
the knife. If you 
look carefully at 
the specimen re- 
moved from the 
bean, you will be 
able to see that it 
Ijears" somewhat 
the appearance of 
a little plant. Such 
in truth it is — the germ, or baby 
plant. But put your f^rorms aside 
for a while, and let us look at the 
rest of the seed. You will iiiid 
in the corn that it resembles dry 
llour or starch, while in the bean 
it looks more like a mixture of 
flour and water which has become 
dry. This is the food of the baby 
plant, and con.sists niostlyof sugar 
and starch. U|)o)i this the germ 
lires till old enough to obtain 
nourishment irom the earth and 
air. 

Perhaps you think it strantro, if 
( I the plant and its Ibod are both 
* contained in the seed, that it is 




FIO. 2. — \ 

SPLIT OKAl.V 

OF COR.V. 



necessary to sow seeds in order to 
hare them grow. But the plant 
cannot appropriate the food until 
it has been moistened. But if 
moisture can be obtained in any 
other way than from the ground, 
the seed will begin to grow just 
as if partin the earth ; and you may 
prore this for yourselros. 




Fia. 



8— A OBAIN or CORN 
OINMNO TO «BOW. 



BK- 



Fill a tumbler with water, and 
cover the top with cotton-wool, on 
which yon may place a few beans 
or some seed of the kind. Place 
the glass in the window, and in 
a few days yon will find that your 
seeds hare sprouted ; and they 
will continue to grow nntil the 
nourishment is exhausted. 

But let us return to the germs. 
Place them under the magnifying- 
glasH, and you will find that some 
hare a root, stem, and two leares, 
while others hare a root, stem, 
and but one leaf Yon w^ill also 
notice that all those baring two 
leaves hare been taken from two- 
lobed seeds, while those baring 
only one leaf have come from the 
undirided seeds ; hnd yon will 
find, when they begin to grow, 
that they present the same differ- 
ences. The two-lobed seeds put 
out two leares at first, the undi- 
vided only one. 8o, that, by look- 
ing at a young plant, you can 
tell at once from which class of 
seeds it has sprung ; or, looking 
at a seed, you will be able to 
foretell the appearance of the 
plant. 

Mow we shall retjuire the 
plants in the tnmbler, and such 
leares as you may be cble to 
collect. 

Observe first, that although you 
may hare placed the seeds in 
rarious positions upon the cotton, 
still in every case the leaves have 
shot upward into the air, while 
the roots have passed downward 
through the cotton into the water. 
Some of them have had to do a 
good deal of twisting in order to 
aecomplish it. It has been hard 
work, but they have succeeded. 
It is one of Nature's laws that 
leaves must so up, roots down. 
But how or why the plants should 
know what this law requires of 
them, we cannot tell. Experi- 
ments made upon this point prore 
that, rattier thaa break the law, 
plants will sometimes slowly 



transform their parts ; that is, the 
branches of trees which hare 
been planted upside down, will 
in time become roots, while the 
roots will turn into branches. 

Naw taVe the leares which 
you hare before you, and examine 
the reining of each, by holdingr it 
between your eye and the light. 
In some of them — maple, oak, and 
beech leares, for instance — yon 
will find the reins, or fine lines 
of the leaf running in every 
direction; while in others, as the 
leares of the calla, lilyof-the-vaU 
ley, grasses, etc., they are paral- 
lel to each other — that is, they 
run side by side, extending from 
the top of the leaf to the bottom, 
or else from the outer edge to the 
stem, which passes down the 
middle. The blades of grass and 
lily-of-the-vailey leaves are ex- 
amples of the first ; the calla leaf 
of the second. 

Look at the plants in the tum- 
bler, and yon will find that the 
leave* all come tinder one or 
other of these two classes ; they 
are either net-veined or parallel- 
veined. 

Next coHsider the seeds ; those 
that are two-lobed have all pro- 
duced net-veined leavea, while the 
leave* growing from the un- 
divided seeds are all parallel- 
reined. 

Let us ram up what we hare 
learned in this way. Two-lobed 
seeds : Two leares at first, net- 
reined leares. Undivided seeds : 
One leaf at first, parallel-veined 
leares. 

If you will commit these two 
short list* to memory, yon will 
often find it an advantage, as one 
point will immediately recall the 
others, 

Bat let us look once more at 
our young plants. You will no- 
tice that in the case of the two- 
lobid seeds, the lobes have grown 
up with the plant, and are now to 
bo found one on each side of the 
stem (Fig 4. a, a,). They hare 
changed not only their appear- 
ance, but their name, since our 
last lesson, and are now called 




Fin. 4— A BEAN OROWINO. 

seed-leares Perhaps by this 
time they may have turned green; 
but they will never resemble the 
other leaves in anything but color. 
By and by they will begin to look 
shrivelled, as they part with the 
nourishment which is stored in 
them, and when it is all gone they 
will drop off. 



are wondering ' 

is going to do 



Perhaps yon 
what the plant 

after it has exhausted tlie food 
contained in the seed, but by that 
time it is quite able to support it- 
self, by di awing upon the earth 
and the air. From the earth it 
obtains earthy matter and mois- 
ture: from the air, some of the 
gases of which it is composed; 
and these three things constitute 
the food of the plant.— 8(. XicHo. 
lat. 



THE 



FOX, 
AND 



THE 
THE 



MONKEY, 
PIG. 



BV HOWARD PYLE. 

The fox, the monkey, and the 
pig were once inseparable com- 
panions. As they were nearly 
always together, the fox's thefu 
so far reflected upon his innocent 
associates, that they were all 
three held to be wicked ani- 
mals. 

At length, the enemies of these 
three laid a snare, in a path they 
were known to use. 

The first that came to the trap 
wa* the pig. He viewed it with 
contempt, and, to show his dis- 
dain of his enemies and hi* dis- 
regard for their snare, he tried to 
walk through it with a lofty tread. 
He found he had undervalued it, 
however, when, in spite of his 
struggles, he was caught and 
strangled. 

The next that came was the 
monkey. He inspected the trap 
carefully ; then, priding himself 
upon the skill and dexterity of 
his fingers, he tried to pick it to 
pieces. In a moment of careless- 
ness, howerer, he became en- 
tangled, and soon met the fate of 
the unfortunate pig. 

The last that came was the fox. 
He looked at the snare anxiously, 
from a distance, and, approaching 
cautiously, soon made himseU 
thoroughly acquainted with its 
size and power. Then he cried, 
"Thus do I defeat the machin- 
ati(uis of my enemies !"~and, 
aroMing the trap altogether, by 
leaping completely orer it, he 
went on his way rejoicing. — St. 

Nicholas. 

^ 

There Was Onoe a little bird 
chased by a hawk, and in its ex- 
tremity it took refuge in the bosom 
of a tender-hearted man. There 
it lay, its "ings and feathers 
quirering with fear, and its little 
heart throbbing against the bosom 
of the good man, whilst the hawk 
kept horering overhead, as if say- 
ing, " Delirer up that bird, that I 
may derour it." Now, will that 
gentle, kind-hearted man take 
the poor little creature, that puts 
its trust in him, out of his boaom, 
and delirer it up to the hawk ? 
What think ye ? Would yon do 
it? No, never. Well then.if you 
flee for refuge into the boaom of 
Jesus, who came to seek and saru 
the lost, do you think he will 
delirer you up to your deadly 
foe ? Nerer ! never ! never !— 
Dunran Malheton. 



M 



It 

4 



9^ 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENOKR." 



S7 



\l 



HE LOST HIS HEAD. 

■■He loat hiahead! What a 
horrible thing ! How did it hap- 
pen 7 Was it cat off in battle, or 
did the train ran over him, or 
how ?" 

Well, no, not in any of these 
wava ; and it was not Hoch a hor- 
rible thing after all. Nor was it 
80 great aloaa aa you might think, 
not even to the man himbelt'. 

■' No great lou for a ma.i to lose 
his head ! Some men's heads, to 
be Bare, don't coant for much, 
bat to the man himself tho loss of 
his hi ad was the greatest loss he 
could have — a lose that never 
could be remedied." 

I am not aare of that ; at all 
events it was not so in this case. 
Thooffh he loat his head ho didn't 
lose nis life. Those who were 
beside him took care of that. 

" How could they ? I f his head 
was off they couldn't pat it on 
again." 

No, to be sure they could not ; 
but then I didn't say that his 
head was off. I onlv said he lost 
his head. Any head he ever had 
of flesh and bones, hair and skull, 
face, brain, and back, was just as 
firm on his neck and shoulders 
as before. 

■' Yet you say he lost his head." 

Yea he did ; but his head was 
on his shoulders notwithstanding. 
The way was this. Masons were 
finishing the spire of a church ; 
and the man, who was a black- 
smith, had been broui^ht up on 
the hoist to fix something about 
the vane. He was not long up 
nntil he became dizsy, so alarmed 
and so helpless, that not only was 
he unable to do what ho had gone 
up for, but the masons had to tie 
him with a rope and lower him 
down to save his life. That man 
lost his head, didn't he ? I believe 
he found it again when he got to 
the ground, 1)nt he was not the 
man to send np for such a job, 
and his master never sent him 
again. Not only so, but he him- 
self woald not have gone had he 
been bid. He got a fright suffi- 
cient to settle that. He only did 
his duty in going, when he did 
not know that he would lose his 
head ; but he would have been 
wrong if, after this, he had gone 
again, wouldn't he ? And let all 
young friends remember, and 
never go where they would lose 
their head — never go except 
when duty calls, where they 
would be likely to lose their 
head, or be in danger of do- 
ing so. Yet I have known 
young people go into dangerous 
places and lose their head when 
they ought not. Never fear when 
duty oofls, but be courageous, and 
that will help you to keep your 
head. Never go into danirur, 
however, without the call of duty, 
else you may lose your head, and 
lose your life or oe injured for 
life. 

There is nothing makes any one 
more surely lose his head than 



taken the drink sav and do things 
they never would have said or 
done if they had not lost their 
head, if their reason were in full 
exercise. So greatly have many 
lost their heail that they cannot 
keep their feet They stagger 
and fall. Boys even have been 
seen in that condition What 
woirtd you think of them, if, hav- 
ing once lost their head by the 
drink, they took it aijain ? Would 
it not seem as it' they had loat 
their head altogether ? 

When any one takes drink he 
cannot be sure but he may lose 
his head, and so the safe way is 
to havo nothing to do with it. 
Persoiib in all ranks have been 
ruined by it. With the loss of 
their head they lost their char- 
acter, and lo.xt their position, and 
went on from bad to worse. 

Only once losing tho head by it 
has been attended with the sad- 



most distinguished physicians say 
that we would be better without 
it. There is danger in taking it, 
duty does not require the use of 
it. Better never taste it than ran 
the risk of losing your head by it, 
and of the consequences which 
may How from that. — The Adviser. 

HELEN'S DIFFICULTY. 

Helen Preston was reading the 
parable of the pounds. When 
she had reached the end, she sat 
back in her little rocking-chair, 
with a very sober face. Present- 
ly Aunt Emma came in, and see- 
ing the small figure in the chair, 
said, '■ Why, Helen, what'a the 
matter ? You look completely 
puzzled," 

■■ So I am. Auntie. Why didn't 
he praise the man tor taking such 
good care of his one pound ? If 
he didn't want to ase it, why 




dest conseqaencee. A man lost 
bis head by drink oiirc, and only 
once ; and while he was in that 
condition he struck down the 
wile he had long loved, and be- 
came a murderer. A doctor lost 
his head by a little drink, and his 
lancet cut where it should noi, 
and the patient died in conse- 
quence. A coachman lost his 
head by what he got at a roadside 
inn. and upset tho coach, and in- 
jured himself and many more. 
The commander of a vessel hav- 
ing many on board and much 
valuable cargo, lost his head by 
wine at tho dinner-table. Nobody 
noticed it; he h'mself did not feel 
it, but he mistook a liKbt, gave 
wrong directions to tho steersman, 
and the result was the loss of the 
ship and not only of the cargo but 
of many lives. The truth is that 
a very little drink may make a 
man lose his head, und the only 



intoxicating' drink. Many have safe way is to have nothing to do 
found it so. Those who huve|\v>itn it. No one needs it. Tho 



wasn't he rii^ht to keep it carefully 
until the owner's return ?" 

■' Not so fast little one," rejoined 
Aunt Emma. '■ You ask questions 
so fast that you don't even wait 
to tell me wha* "ou are reading." 

'■ The paral jf the pounds, 
Aunt Emma, in the nineteenth 
chapter of Luke." 

Mrs. Vernon came and sat down 
by her little niece, and after a 
moment's thought said, " What 



'make it moat profitable to the 
owner." 

Helon'a face brightened, " Now 
I understand it. I thought they 
were only to take care of the 
pounds nntil hia return, or. to use 
them if they wished, and could 
do so without loss." 

■■ When you read these parablea 
yon must remember they are 
picture-stories — stories with 
meanings to them, and the things 
Jesus wanted to teach the people 
were more imi>ortant than the 
real facts in tho story. Do yoa 
know the meaning of thisparable ?" 

" Oh, yes ; you know this was 
our Sundav -school lesson not long 
ago. Teacher said it was to show 
us how God expected a right nse 
of the things he has given us." 

"What things, little girl?" 
questioned Auntie. 

'■ Time, and — and the being able 
to do things — " Helen hesitated ; 
it wasn't easy to pat into words, 
though she knew jast what it 
meant — ■' you know. Auntie, it 
may be little things or big things, 
our hands or our feet, oar 
thoughts, our tongues, and ever 
so many others," 

Annt Emma smiled, ■■ Yes, 
dear, whatever God has given us 
the pojw'er to do oueht to be done 
rightly and well, done so as to 
please and honor Him. To let 
that power lie idle — to do nothing 
when we might do something — 
is being anfaithfnl to Him who 
has trusted us with it." 

'■ Like the man with the one 
pound," put in Helen. 

" Just so ; Jesus wants to teach 
us that neglect to use what He 
has given us to make good use of 
is sin Suppose, Helen, it was 
grain, instead of money, that this 
man gave to his servants. All 
bat one sowed it in the proper 
season, and when harvest time 
came they had a much larger 
amount of grain than at the first, 
because they had made good use 
of it." 

'■ But what did the one man do, 
Aunt Emma ?" 

" He carefully pat the grain 
away in a sack in the barn, and 
when after some years the owner 
claimed it, he brought it out, and 
lo ! it was all mildewed and rusted 
and dried up, of no use for any- 
thing. So you see the very keep- 
ing of some things wastes and 
spoils them, while the using of 
them increases their valun. We 
often think that we only sin when 
we do something wron£", but you 
see hero Jesus shows us that we 



was the command given to each 

man as he received the (lounds ?" i sm when we fail to do right 
Helen glanced down at the \ " Why, I never thought of 



open Bible in her lap, and, after 
a little hesitation, replied, " Occu- 
py till I come." 

'■ Yes, and when their lord re- 
turned he called them uU lo him, 
that ho might know how much 
each man tiad gained by trading. 
Evi'.-ntly, then, the command 
signified that they were to make 
good use of that which he intrust- 
ed to their keeping. It was to be 
employed iu such a way as would 



it 



that way," said Helen. 

■■ Perhaps not, dearie, tiut don't 
forget it in the future. To waste 
time or anything else God has 
given us, or to spend it foolishly 
or uselessly, is as wrongas to use 
it for evil purposes. Try, little 
Helen, to make a good use ot your 
life and everything in it, that at 
the end God may say to you also, 
' Well done, good and laithfal Mr- 
vant." "—Childi Paper. 



•N^ 



i 






HKPRINTEI) STORIES. KUOM THE " NOHTHhlliN MKSSKN(;KK." 



THE IIOIINBILL. 

BY KIIKI) IIKVKIU.KV. 



1 



It is not slriiiii;(> thni Africa, the 
hoiiit'of tht> gorilla ntid hippopot 
nmuH, Hhould pohbokh th(> most 
curious Bpi^uiiDfUH of tho f/rcat 
clasH of birds ; for it has l>ot>n 
found to contain within its tangled 
junf^les the rarest and nio8t gro- 
tesque forms ofauiinRl life, though 
we must except the island of 
Australia, where the laughing 
jackoss and the kangaroo are 
found. 

One of the mo^t interesting and 
attractive families of birds it> that 
of tho hornbill, one species of 
which is shown in the illustra 
tion. Although this bird is found 
in India, it is much more abun- 
dant in Africa. 

If we may believe report, the 
bill of the hornbill is nearly one- 
fourth the length ol ils body. The 
bill is very long, curved, deep and 
thin, and has n helmet upon its 
crown, of various shapes and 
sizes ; and this helmet is used to 
give to many species their specific, 
or proper names. Thus, there is 
the liureros biiornis, or two-horned 
hornbill ; the liticerm rkinocerof, 
or rhinoceros hornbill, so called 
from the immense helmet resem- 
bling tht> horn ot n rhinnceros. 
liurerii.i 18 the generic name ap- 
plied to them for some peculiar- 
ity they all possess in common ; 
the s/iecifii; or individual, names 
being derived from the shapes of 
their helmets. 

Though si'emingly heavy and 
unwieldy, the bill oi the hornbill 
is very lisiht, being composed ol 
light cellular tissue, resembling 
in this respect the skull of the 
elephant ; and the walls ol thin 
bone nre so fragile, that in dried 
spei'Unens it nmy be crushed iu 
the hand. The edge of the man- 
dible.s, or l»eak>, are very sharp. 
Irefjuenlly breaking otl'and Iteiiig 
renewed, It is said that the age 
of the bird may be ascertained 
iVotn the wrinkles on its bill, as 
the age of a cow i,s sometimes told 
from the wrinkles around her 
liorns, 

Before proceeding further, it 
may be well to notice a family of 
birds, inhabiting tSouth America, 
often confounded with the horn- 
bills, from their resemblance. 
These are the toucans. They 
are confined to tho warmer jwr- 
tions of the New World, us the 
hornbills -'.re to those of the Old. 
Their bills are large, of the same 
.structure, but lack the helmet; 
they are brighter colored and 
a'audy of plumaiie Their voices 
are loud and barish, and can be 
lieniit a long way. 

It is from tho cry of the IJrazil- 
iiMl species, " toucaiio," that they 
derive their name. When feed- 
ing, they post a sentinel. They 
have a hnbit of sitting upon 
the topmost branches f trees, 
chattering, lifting their heads at 
regular intervals, clashing their 
bills together, and crying ut so 
loudly as to bo heard at the dis- 



tance of a mile. From this the 
nativeg hare given them the name 
of "preacher birds.,' They have 
great antipathy to any bird uglier 
than themselves, and will mob an 
owl with the lest of crows, nearly 
frightening the poor bird to death 
with their clashing beaks and 
loud cries. 

To return to our friends the 
hornbills. From the great sixe 
of their bills, they caimol walk 
easily upon the ground, but hop 
along awkwardly. The trees are 
their homos, and they hop from 
limb to limb with great ease, 
climbing to the tree-lops, where 
they remain for hours shouting 
gleefully in their bravest tones. 

They feed upon pulpy Iriiils, 
small "nilnaU, replilesand insei'ls, 
and ...ike their nests in hollow 
trees. 



have tieen told by Livingstone 
the African exploror, that this 
bird breeds, like the other mem- 
bers of its family, in hollow trees ; 
that it makes its nest in holes in 
lhetrunksofthe8etreeB,thatthele- 
male lines ils nest with feathers 
Irom her own boily, and lays four 
or five eggs, white, and of the si-ze 
of pigeons' eggs. 

In this there isnolhing remarK- 
ably noteworthy ; but we are as- 
tonished when we read turther 
and tind that, alter the nest is 
prepared to the satisfaction of the 
female, she is shut up a close pris- 
oner for weeks ; that the entrance 
to the hole is plastered over with 
mu<l, unlit only a little slit is left, 
three or four inches long and half 
and inch wi<li'— .just large enough 
to admit the beak. 

The male bird, who has walled 



! 




Wng up the young hornbills ; but, 
although Ihey cannot tell exactly 
why the plan is adopted, there is 
no doubt that the old birds know 
what they are about. 

It is certainly not to prevent 
the escape of his mate that the 
male works so industriously to 
imprison her, and becomes loan 
and emaciated in his laluirol love, 
in procuring ioo<l for her and their 
! little ones during those two long 
I weary months. It is more than 
probable that tho object sought is 
to prevent the entrance of noxious 
reptiles, which could easily de- 
stroy mother and young, did not 
that formidable bill so ctfectaally 
fill tho hole. But one thinr is 
certain, the mother hornbill is 
obliged to stay at home and at- 
tend to her domestic duties, al- 
though she must be very differ- 
ent from almost any other bird it 
she does not, of her own free-will 
and desire, hatch ont her little 
ones and take care of them until 
they can look ont for themselves. 
If we all attended to our duties 
as earnestly and conscientiously 
as mother-birds (and sometimes 
father-birds too) attend to theirs, 
it would be better fo most of us. 
—SI. Nirholai. 



THE lIUUNbll.L KEKI)l.V(t HIS WIFE. 



The larsrest Bpccj"s is the rhi- 
noceros hornliill. which has a 
stretch of wing of about three 
feet, and a bill ten inches in 
length. The ireneral color of this 
bird is black, the tail tipped with 
white. The bill is black at the 
base, reddish in the middle, and 
yellow tipped. 

The most attractive species, as 
to plumage, is the crested horn- 
bill. which has a crown of feath- 
ers like the spread crest of a 
cockatoo, and a long beautiful 
tail. 

But the most interesting species 
is one noted, not for its plumage, 
but for a habit ol nesting an(I liv- 
ing peculiarly its own. This is 
the red-billed hornbill, the ttucfms 
erythrorhynchus of naturalists We 



up the hole, feeds tho female 
through this slit until the young 
are hatche<l and fledged— a period 
of eight or ten weeks. In this 
time the female has become vi-ry 
fat, and is often hunted out and 
eaten by the iieirroes of the coun- 
try, who esteem her a great deli- 
cacy. 

Sometimes the female hatches out 
two young ones, that are nearly 
able to fly before the other two 
ajjpear. Then, with the two 
older birds, she leaves the nest 
and Walls in the younger ones, 
which are le<l, throuirh the slit, 
by their father and mother until 



take care of themselves. 



■jy tliel 
iblc to 

Many writers have speculated 
upon the reason for this peculiar 
style ol hatching ut and bring- 



A CATARACT THAT RUSHES 
UP THE RIVER. 

In most rivers, as I've heard, 
the cataracts and rapids flow 
down-stream, but one of my Cana- 
dian friends sends word that the 
St. John River, New Brunswick, 
has a cataract which has a queer 
habit of sometimes rushing up- 
stream, 

A little above where the river 
flows into the ocean, there is a 
wide and deep basin that empties 
itself into the harbor through a 
narrow passage between two 
walls of rock. When the tide is 
going down, the water runs ont 
of the harbor into tho ocean far 
more ijuickly than the river can 
flow through the narrow channel 
above, and so the stream pours 
itself seaward through the harbor 
end of tho ]>as8age in a roaring 
water-fall. But when the tide is 
rising, the ocean tills the harbor 
and passage so rapidly that the 
sea-water plunges down into the 
basin from the river end of the 
narrow channel, in a foaming 
cataract that falls up-stream ! 

Twice in every tide, however, 
there is a space ot about twenty 
minutes when tho woters are at 
one height in the harbor, passage, 
and basin, and then the ships that 
are to go up or down must be 
hurried through before the river 
" gets its back up," as the boys 
say. — Si Nirholai. 



The crowning fortune of a man 
is to be born to some pursuit 
which finds him in employment 
and happiness— whether it be to 
make baskets, or broadswords, or 
canals, or statues, or songs. — £»>- 
trs m. 



% 



«H« 



«4» 



i 



m^ 



i\ 



REPRINTKD STORIKS. FROM TUK " NORTH KRN MKSSFINGKR." 



89 



THE YAK. 



Tho yak, or grunting ox, de- 
rives iU name IVom its very pern- 
linr voice, whirh houiuU much 
iiko the grunt of i\ pig. It is a 
native ol the mountaiuH of Thibet, 
and, according to Ilodson, it in- 
habits all the lolliext plateaus of 
High Asia, between the Altai and 
the Himalayas. 

It is capable of domestication, 
and is liablo to extensive perma- 
nent varieties, which have pro- 
bably been occasioned by the 
climate in which it lives and 
tho work to which it has been 
put. The noble yak, for example, 
is a large, handsome animal, hold- 
ing its head proudly erect, having 
a large hump, extremely long 



and when i)ropfrlv mnuiited in u 
silver handle, it in u.sc(l a^ a lly 
flapper in Indiii under the nami> 
of a chowrie. These tniJF are cur- 
ried before certoiu otUccrs of state, 



(ir.st learned this fiirt from two 
old and experienoi'd lishernien 
when out on ii fishing excursion, 
one lovely Auirust (lay, ofl' S<\van 
Heach, New .lersey. It came out 



their number indicatini^ his rank, in the course of a story, which is 



The plough yiik is altogether n here 
more plebeiau-Iookinu animal, | 
humble of deportment, carrying 
its head low, and almost devoid 
of the magnificent tufts of \o\)g 
silken hiiirs that friiiire the sjili-s 
of its more ariHlocrntic relation. 
Their legs are very short in pro- 
portion to their bodies, and they 
are generally tailless, thai member 
having bee" cut off and sold by 
their avaricious owner. There 
is also another variety whii'h is 
termed the Ghainorik. The color 
of this animal is black,the buckand 



given as it was told in the 
boat ; 

"On n fine morning in August, 
ISti", we Ntarted at daylight for 
this very reef of rocks. With 
plenty of bait, we looked for four 
or five hundred-weight of sea- 
bass, flounders, and blackiish. At 
first we pulled them up as fast as 
our lines touched bottom ; then 
we had not a single bito. tiur- 
prised, we looked up and around, 
preparatory to changing our 
ground. To our astonishment the 
water was alive with sharks. We 



I glared ferociously at our pale 
i'aces. One shark dashed at the 
boat and seized one of her side 
planks and almost shook us out of 
our seats. Fortunately his teeth 
broke ofi, and away he went. In 
a moment he was devoured by 
the other sharks. Then tho shoal 
returned to us again. 

" Wo were in despair, and ne- 
ver expected to see shore again. 
We could not sail, we could 
not row, and wore drifting out to 
sea. Finally, Charlie itaid, ' Bill, 
we are in an awful mess. Let 
us si-e if God will help us.' We 
knelt down, and I prayed for help, 
confessed our sins, and promised 
ainuudmont and repentance. We 
had hardly linished before wo 
saw a great shoal of porpoise*. 



7 




THE YAK. 



i 



h»ir, and a rery bushy tail. It is 
a shy and withal capricious ani- 
mal, too much disposed to kick 
with the hind feet and to make 
threatening demonstrations with 
the horns, as if it intended to im- 
pale the rider. The heavy fringes 
of hair that decorate the sides of 
of the yak do not make their ap- 
pearance until the animal has at- 
tained three months of age, the 
calves being covered with rough 
curling hair, not unlike that of a 
black Newfoundland do^. The 
beautiful white bushy tail of the 
yak is in great request for various 
ornamental par[K>ws, and forms 
•{uite ao important article of com- 
merce, Dyed red, it is formed 
into those carious tufts that de- 
corate the caps of the Chinese, 



tail being often white. When over- 
loaded, the yak is accustomed to 
vent its displeasure by its loud, 
monotonic. melancholy crrunting, 
which has been known to afTect 
the nerves of unprtiotised riders 
to such an extent that they dis- 
mounted, after suffering half an 
hour's infliction of this most lugu-l 
brioua chant, and performed the 
remainderof their journey on foot. 
— Scienlijic Amfricnn. 

A SHARK STORY. 

It may not be generally known 
that in that playful marine acro- 
bat, the porpoise, the shark pos- 
sesses an implacable enemy that 
will permit no intrusion on its 
feeding grounds, The writer 



commenced pullingupouranchor, 
when a savatre fish rushed to the 
bow of the boat and bit the rope 
in two. Then we hoisted sail, 
but the moment we put the steer- 
inir oar into the water, several 
sharks began biting it into pieces. 
So we were compelled to take in 
sail and drift. We were in the 
midst of a school of sharks two 
miles long and half a mile broad. 
They were of all sizes, from six 
feet loiiir to twelve or fourteen. 
They swarmed around our boat, 
and dashed it one-third full of 
water with their tails. We had 
to bait, one with his hat, and the 
other with tho bait pail. Every 
moment some big fellow would 
put his nose almost on our gun- 
wale, while his yellow tiger eye 



They hurled themselves out of 
the water, jumping twenty feet 
at a bound. Soon we were in the 
midst of them. The sharks start- 
ed out to sea, but the porpoises 
were too quick for them. They 
bit and tore the sharks fearfully. 
Sometimes three porpoises would 
have hold of one shark. Then 
they jumped out of the water and 
fellheavily on these tigew of the 
ocean. The tight continued for 
miles, and we were saved. We 
rode safely to shore, and by God's 
mercy became professors of reli- 
gion. We have respect for por- 
poises, and believe it they were 
not so plentiful, the New .Jersey 
shore would swarm with sharks, 
and then good-bye to fishing and ^ 
bathing." — Brtlhh Workmiin. ♦ 



iH9- 



•*4 




iltPHINTED STORIiS, FRCM THK " NORTH KHN MKSSKNC.KK. 






THE BATS AND THE MEAL. 

BY PALUKR COX. 

One summer's night when all was 
still. 
And motionless the wheel, 
Some rats ran through the village 
mill, 
And stole a bag of meal. 

And hurry-scurry, tooth and nail, 
Thev dragged it to the door, 

And then upon their shoulders 
soon 
Away the treasure bore. 

But as they hastened from the 
room. 

Along a narrow plank. 
The heavy load went in the flume, 

And to the bottom sank. 

And downward with the bag of 
meal, 
Ere they could loose their hold. 
With many a frightened squeak 
and squeal, 
The thieves together rolled. 

So then for life they had to swim. 
But when they reached the 
shore. 
They dried themselves around a 
fire, 
And vowed to steal no more. 
— Har/iers' Young People. 



«l pari 



HOW LOVE REMOVED A 
MOUNTAIN. 

"Mamma," said Arthur, ").ow 
can faith remove mountains 7 " 

" I will tell you how love once 
removed a mountait," said his 
mother, and then you will perhaps 
understand what is now puzzling 
yon: 

" More than a hundred and 
twenty years ago there was born 
in an old castle on the shores of 
the Pentland Firth,in the far north 
of Scotland, a boy, who, when he 
grew up, became a very useful 
man. His mother was of a noble 
family, and he inherited a title 
himself He was Sir .Tohn Sin- 
clair ; but far better than titles and 
Wealth, was the training the mo- 
ther gave to her son. She taught 
him — for hie fitlier died when he 
was young — how to manage wise- 
ly his estbte ; and as ho f^rew np 
he showed that he did not intend 
to lead a seliish, luxurions life, 
but to do hit) best for his neigh- 
bors and his country. At that 
time good roads wore very much 
needed, even in the more busy 
parts of England ; and in the north 
ot Scotland, where the inhabitants 



asked the reason, and Delacroii 
res])onded that having for some 
time been vainly searching for a 
head such as ho would like to 
copy for a prominent begmr in 
his new picture, he was suddenly 
struck with the idea that his host 
would make a splendid model. 
The baron, who was fond of art, 
gracefully consented to sit, and 
next morning appeared in the 
studio of the painter, who dressed 
him in rags, placed a tall staff in 
his hand, luid put him into a 
mendicant's i>osture. In this al- 
titude he was discovered by a 
young friend and pupil of the 
painter who alone nad the pri- 
vilege of being admitted to the 
studio at all times. Surprised by 
the excellence of the model, he 
congratulated his master at having 
at fast found exactly what he 
wanted. Not for a moment doubt- 
ing that the model had just be«n 
begging at the porch of some 
church or at the corner of a bridge, 
and much struck by his features, 
the young man espying a 



were few, and for 
the moat nsrt poor, 
the roads were 
often very bsd 

" One day a 
neighbor asked Sir 
John when ho 
would make ii road 
over Ben Cheilt 
— a large moun- 
tain which inter- 
fered much with 
freedom of travel- 
ling in Caithness. 
Ho was not pre- 
pared to begin a 
road over Ben Cheilt just then, 
but the time came soon alter. He 
went to London on a visit, and 
there saw a young lady whom he 
wished to marry, but when he 
asked her to go with him to Caith- 
ness she shook her head. She 
liked Sir John ; but in those days 
of slow travelling and dear |K>stage 
the distance between Thurso and 
London seemed immense, and 
Miss Maitland could not make up 
her mind to go so far from home. 
However, she did not altogether 
refuse him, and *he went back to 
Thurso, resolved that the big 
mountain, Ben Cheilt, should no 
longer stand in the way of a direct 
road to the south. He surveyed 
it carefully, made up his mind 
what to do, and then sent out 
over the country for all the men 
that could be got to help him. 
One summer's morning, at early 
dawn, one thousand twohnndre<i 
and sixty men assembled under 
his command, and by nig'htfall 
the old bridle-track was made ir,- 
to a carriage-road. Before he 
could go south again, a gcntlen°.an 
who had just been travelling in 
Scotland, carried to Miss Maitland 
the story of Sir John's r jad-mak- 
ing, and all his othei improve- 
ments, and she was so much 
pleased that she determined to re- 
ward him in the way he wished. 
They were married soon after- 
ward. 

" That was not Sir John's only 
effort. He lived to be nn old man, 
to do a great deal lor Scotland, 

and to bo much respected. And moment when the artist's eyes 
now, Arthur, you see how love were averted, slipped a twenty- 
can remove mountains." i franc piece into the model's hand. 
" lie dir'.n't remove it inamraa ; ' Rothschild kept the money, thank- 
he only made a way over it," said ing the giver by a look, and the 
Arthur. j young man went his way. He 
" And what more was needed T i was, as the banker soon found out 
answered his mamma. " God ' from Delacroix without fortune, 
does not take mountains out of and ohlii^ed to pive lessons in or- 
our way altogether, in this world, der to eke out his living. Some- 
my dear; but if we love and tiuKt time luler the youth received a 
Him he will give us the strength letter mentioning that charity 
and patience to make a way ovi.>r bearsiutereBt,and 
them ; and that is better. 'Who that the ac- 



of ten thousand francs having 
borne live hundred fold. 



:; 



TO 



BOYS, ON HABITS 
STUDY. 



OF 




" Do get on with your studies. 
If von acquire slovenly or sleepy 
habits of study now, you will 
never get the better of them. Do 
everything in its own time. Do 
everything in earnest. If it is 
worth doing, then do it with all 
^onr might. Above all, keep much 
in the presence of God. Never see 
the face of man till you have seen 
His face who is our life, our all. 
Pray for others : pray for your 
toachera, fellow-students," &c. 

To another he wrote : — " Be- 
ware of the atmosphere of the 
classics. It is pernicious indeed ; 
and you need much of the south 
wind breathing over the Scripture 
to counteract it. True, we ought 
to know them ; but only as chem- 
ists handle poisons — to disottver 
their qoalitiea, not to infect onr 
blood with them." 

And >fun: — "Pray that the 
Holy Spirit would not only 
make yoa a believing and 
holy lad, but make you wise 
in your studies also. A ray 
of Divine light in the soul 
sometimes clears up a mathe- 
matical problem wonderfully. 
The smile oi Ood calms the 

J;>iTit, and the left hand of 
etna holds up the fainting 
head, and His Holy Spirit 
onickene the affections ; so 
tnat even natural atadies go 
on a million times more easilv 
and comfortably ."—ii«(>. R. M 
McCkejfnt!. 



A ToDCHiNo Story comes 
from Eyemouth England : Mr. 
William Nisbet, the skipper 
of one of the ilM'ated fishing 
boats, had a parrot which, 
under his tuition, had become 
remarkably proficient in the 
oie of langna^. Nisbet was 
fond of his bird. Ever since 
the atorm of Friday fortnight, 
the parrot hat been depressed and 
silent, as though it was conscious 
of its loss. The other day, how- 
ever, and throughout the day, it 
Ibund and maintained its voice, 
repeating mournfully, and with 
pathetic iteration, " Bnphy, 
Willie's awa' noo — Willie's awa' 
noo ! " " Euphy" (Euphemia) 
is the name of Nisbet's wife — 
Chriitian Life. 



art thuu, O, great mountain ? Be- 
fore Zerubbabcl thcu sholt become 
a plain.'" (Zech. iv. 7.) — Selected. 



ANECDOTE OF BARON 
ROTHSCHILD. 



cumulated inter- 
est on twenty 

I francs, which he, 
prompted by a 

' generons i m - 
pulse, had given 
to a mnn in ap- 
pearance a beg- 



Baron James dc Rothschild one 
day at dinner perceived that the I gar, was lying at 
artist Delacroix who was his guest, this disposal 



was looking at him in a peculiarly 
searching manner. The baron 



Rothschild's of- 
fice,to the amount 




^HS» 



die*. 

oepy 

will 

Do 

Do 

it i» 

llhall 

nch 



our 



I - 



RKPRINTKD STORIKS. FROM THE "NORTHKRN MRSSKNOER." 



01 




and Fr»'iu'h tlu<>iiliy. Shf dooH nitht-r pprinh with 
not Rmokc, ni>ith'-r dofii oh)' in- advin' pruvuilud.- 
dulge, M Mohttminediiii ladii>i Wfckl,y. 

g(>n«r*lly do. in wcarinir co«lly •— 

Appnrcl. or in dainti)>N nnd con- 
tVctioiifry, whici) nro dotriinoiitAl 
to health. Sh)> i« miid to quotu 
tho word of t^hakcHppuro, 

" Why •<> largi' cu't, ImvIiik an nliort n 
bontlliuii u|uiii til) failiiiK iiiannioii 

npUllil / " 

and tu follow tho rulu, 

" lli^ iKMir williiiiii, iiiiri'Uo lliv iiiotnl 



it. and her 
■///«*. Chrii. 



fiunr Wllliiilll, 

lii*-uriH. " 

Hor huxhand has raJHi'd himsidl 
above thu contiiinptiblo custom of 
taking seroral wives. Emineh is 
his only witM, and bhe is a trae 
and loving and fuithl'ul wife to 
him. iiJhe was married to Prince 
Tewfik in 1873, and has over 
since exercised a very heneticial 
iufliituicc over her husband. They 
have four handsome and hvulthy 
children, two sons. Abbas and 
Mohammed Ali, an(l two younger 
daughters. She is to her children 
u taithful h id loving mother. To 
her, as to the Roman Oornelia, 
thoy are her jewels. !^he takes 
good care ot them horsell, and 
keeps for them English nurses and 
teachers. 

Princess Emineh is of prepos- 
seMing api>earance. She is ex- 
ceedingly handsome, a stately, 
well-built iigure, and nohlo beur 



MOHAMMED TEWFIK, KIIEDIVB OF KOYPT. 



THE 



KHEDIVK OF EGYPT 
AND HIS WIFE. 



BY BIV. 



QEOROK 
PH. D. 



C. SEIBEBT, 



SI 



Of all men in high position no 
one perhaps had during the last 
year to go through greater 
troubles and trials than the pres- 
ent ruler of Egypt, TewKk Pasha, 
the son of Ismail Pasha. Under 
peculiar circumstances Tewtik 
ascended the throne when his 
father Ismail, who, in his desire to 
promote the civilization and wel- 
fare of Egypt, had burdened the 
country with an immense debt 
since 1868, was compelled to re- 
sign in 1879, and to leave the 
country. The statt was b^k- 
runt, tne interest on the national 
debt could not be paid. England 
and France appointed commis- 
sioners, who were to contr<d the 
linances of the country, and to see 
that the creditors would get all 
money due to them. The young 
Khedive limited the expenses ol 
his court in every respect, and 
tried his best to save the credit of 
the country. A military party, 
headed by Arabi Pasha, rose, 
trained power and inttuence, and 
abused the Khedive. He deposed 
Arabi, but was compelled by the 
Mohammedan nlemas (priests) 
and the officers of the army to 
restore him We do not tell the 
rest : it is itill ireah in our memory, 
that Arabi rose in open rebellion, 
that he had the Khedive deposed 



by a council of the Notaoles at 
Cairo, that he caused the British 
to bombard Alexandria, and that 
he even threatened the life of the 
Khedive, who was only savt>d by 
the intervention of General Stone 
and other American offioers. 

In the midst of all these fearful 
trials and tribulations, the Khe- 
dive Tewfik had one true and 
faithful friend who stood by him, 
comforting, encouraging, support- 
ing him in the dark hours through 
which he had to pass, sharing his 
atflictions, and by doingso lighten- 
ing their burden. This friend was 
his noble and faithful wife. 

Princess Emineh is ot noble 
descent ; her mother was the 
daughter of a Padishah (Sultan) ; 
her father was a sou of Abbas, 
who from 1848 to 1854 had been 
ruler of Egypt, and had been 
assassinated in the night from the 
12th to the 13tli of July, 1854, at 
Venha - el - Hassel. Abbas was 
succeeded first by Said Pasha, his 
uncle (1854-I8t)8 , atid then by 
Ismail Pasha, his cousin the 
fattier of Tewfik. Princess Em- 
ineh is therefore a near relative of 
her husband. She knew him 
from early childhood, and was his 
love when he, who was born in 
1852, was still a boy. 

No wonder that the young 
prince fell in love with Princess 
Emiaeh, for she is not only a 
great beauty, but also an intelli- 
gent and virtuous lady. She is 
fond of study, and speaks English 



A TRUE STORY. 

One day in t)ctober Willie and I 
thoui(ht we would go chestnntting, 
NO we tookour baskets and started 
for the woods. 

liehind our house, beyond the 
pasture where the cows — Lily, 
Violet, Hose, Clover, and Harebell 
— were feeding, there is a grove 
i)f chestnut-trees, and the ground 
was covered with the brown shiny 
iiutu ; for there had been a heavy 
frost the night before, and, yon 
know, it takes a good white frost 
to r;rack open the hard prickly burs. 

We went to work at once, and 
soon our baskets began to feel 
heavy. Then, when we heard a 
noise overhead, we looked up, 
and there, in a big tree, were two 
little chipmunks scolding away at 
us, andsayintr,ins<|uirrel language, 
" Look at those two Hellish ])eopn) ! 
They're taking all our nuts. 

Hut, after watching us lor a 
while, they saw that we were not 
smart enough to get all the nuts ; 
so they began to feel happier, aitd 
to chase each other up and down 
the tree, and along the ground to- 
ward us. The one that was being 
chased was so excited that I sup- 
pose he took me for a tree, for he 



ing with a high intellectual fore-j ran right up to my shoulder, went 
head, rich brown hair, large dark | round my neck twice, and at last 



eyes, finely cut noble features and 
a white color of the skin. She is 
a princess in her appearance and 
even in her manners and whole 
bearing. She dresses like a 
European lady. To her husband 
■he is attached by true affection, 
which he reciprocates fully. 
When in the dark hours of the 
war she was advised to leave hor 
husband, she stood by him and 
when the British before they bom- 
barded Alexandria, offered to the 
Khedive and his family one ot 
their ships as a place of refuse, 
she insisted that they should 
remain in the doomed city and 



stopped on my hands, which v-'ere 
clasped together. 

There he stayed for a full min- 
ute, boking at me with his bright 
black eyes, as much as to say, 
Why ! if this isn't fun, I thought 
I was running up a tree, and, in- 
stead of that, here I am in the 
hands of ono of those giants who 
steal our nuts. I wonder if the 
monster will hurt me ! " 

Then, I suppose, I moved my 
hands, for down he jumped, and 
ran pell-mell up a tree, and into 
his hole; and that waa the last 
we saw of our friend the chip- 
munk. — Nurseri/. 




PRINCESS EMINEH, WIFE OF THE KHKDIVE. 






r 



19 

»2 REPRINTED STORIES 

TUB lIAaiC DANGB. 

BY 0. A. ZIMMKRMAN. 

It it probable that lome of you 



FROM THB "NORTHEUN MKSSKNCJKR.' 



hare had an opportunity of aeeing 
experiment* in what i« known an 
friotioaal electricity, iMsrformed 
by meant of coally apparatua and 
]>owerfni batteriea. But by ob- 
terring the i'ol lowing directiona, 
vou can now enjoy a aimilar ex- 
hibition, produced in a very few 
minutea by the aimpleat materiala. 

We ahall require two pretty 
thick booka, ao placed at to au|v 
port a pane of (Tlaaa, aar twelve 
oy ten iuchea m tiie, held be- 
tween their pagea, aa ahown in 
thia picture — the giaat being 
about one inch and one-quarter 
from the top of the table on which 
the experiment iato be tried. Thia 
done, you may exeroiae your akill 
with a pair of acinaors, and cut out 
of tissue paper the iigurea (hat are 
to dance. They muat not exceed 
one inch and one-eighth in length, 
and they may repreaent abauid 
little ladies and gfntlemen, or any 
animal you may hap(>en to think 
of. 

Yon will find admirable little 
figures of children in Miss Green- 
awav's charming book, " Under 
the Window," — if you are so for- 
tunate to ])OB8«88 it. These can 
be traced on the tissue ]>apor, and 
colored if desired, or you can cut 
small iigures out of the pictures 
in illustrated newspapers, the 
more comical the better. 

Now place the dancers upon the 
table underneath the glass (see 
illustration), and with a silk, cot- 
ton, or linen hanketchief, apply 
friction to the top of the pane, by 
rubbing jfiskly in a circular 
manner; the fagures soon will 
start into activity, execute jigs, 
between table and glass, join 
bauds, stand on their heads, — in 
short, it would be difficult to de- 
scribe all their antics. Touch 
the glass with your finger, and 
they will fall, as if dead upon the 
table.— S/. Nicholas. 



A BIRTHDAY GIFT. 

Baby Elaie was cooing in her 
crib. She was one year old to- 
day, and her mother and Aunt 
Marion were looking at her with 
delighted eyes, when there ciame 
a ring at the door. The poatman 
handed in a letter, addreated in a 
quaint, cramped handwriting, to 
Elsie Allan. 

" A letter to Baby ! " exclaimed 
the surprised mamma. " And 
surely it is from Aunt Dorothy. 
Well, what has prompted this, I 
wonder ;" " 

As the letter was opened, a 
piece of pai)er fluttered out. It 
proved on examination to be a 
cheque for $25. The letter was 
as follows : 

" Baby Elsie's Great-Aunt Dor- 
othy sends her a birthday gift, 
which she hopes Baby's mother, 
niece Laura, will invest for Babv 
in the wisebt way she can thiuiic 
of." 



" Of course, Laura, you will put 
it in the savings' bank for her, and 
let it be a neat egg. Dear httle 
girlie, It would be nice for her 
to have a bank-book of her very 
own." 

" No," said Mrt. Alleu," I won't 
do that." 

"Well, then, I'd advise you 
spending it on the little thing her- 
aelf. 8he needs a new dreta and 
cloak, and she ought to have a 
ailvcr spoon and fork of her own, 
and that way of using it would, I 
am sure, be agreeable to Aunt 
Dorothy." 

The young mother waa looking 
at her child with a very aweet 
expreasion on her thoughtful 
face. 

*■ Marion," she taid, " I ahall 
tend this money to the Treasurer 
of the Woman's Board of Foreign 
Misaious, and let ita payment 
make Elaie a Life-Member of that 
Bociety. I want to bring her up 
to bo an earnest and devoted 
child of God, and a servant of 
Chriat ; and what can I do better 
than to send this, her birthday 



fdease my Heavenly Father, but I 
orget so often." 

•■Ask God to help you, my 
darling," said mamma. " When 
you feel tired or impatient, no 
matter whore you are or what 
you are doing, raiae yoar heart 
in prayer to hini loratrength todo 
as he would have yon, and he will 
never lail you." 

"I will, mamma," aaid Nellie 
earnestly, and together then th*y 
knelt, a[nd the mother prayed 
that the dear Father of us all 
would indeed bless her child, and 
enable her to " do alwars ihoae 
things which please him.' — Chns- 
tine R. Marshall 

THK DEAD RAVEN. 

A poor weaver once lived in 
the little German town of Wup- 
perthal — a poor man in hia out- 
ward circumstances, but rich to- 
ward God, and well-known in 
his neighborhood as one who 
trusted in the Lord at all time*. 
Hia constant faith expreaaed it- 
sell in what became hia habitual 




gift, in her name, lo help tell the 
old, old story to the perishing in 
heathen lands V " 

And that was the investment 
which Aunt Dorothy's money 
made for a weo maiden, who, if 
she lives, will never remember 
the time when she wa.s not inter 
ested in Foreign Missions. — 
Chris. IntelUgKHcer. 



fb in th 



utterance under all circumstances 
of trouble and perplexity. " The 
Lord hrlps." he waa wont to Bay ; 
and he said it undauntedly, even 
when it looked aa if the Lord had 
forsaken hira. Such a time it waa 
when, in a season of scarcity, work 
ran short, many hands were dis- 
charged, and the master by whom 
our weaver was employed gave 
him his dismissal. Alter much 
fruitless entreaty that he might 
be kept on, he aaid at length, 
" Well, the Lord helps ; " and ao 
returned home. His wife, when 
she heard the sad news, b«>wailed 
it terribly : but her husband strove 
to cheer her with his accustomed 
assurance. "The Lord helps," he 
said ; and although as the days 
went on, poverty pinched them 
sorely, nothing could shake his 
firm reliance on Him in whom he 
trusted. At last came the day 
when not a penny was left — no 
bread, no fuel in the honae ; only 
starvation stared them in the face, 
do always those things which | Sadly his wife tidied and swept 



NELLIE'S VERSE. 

It was Nellie's birthday, and 
mamma had sugirested that 
she should choose a Bible verse to 
help her through the coming 
year ; so now she sits with her 
own beautiful new Bihlf, >i present 
from grandmamma, and looking 
over the familiar cha|)ters of the 
gospels, her eyes rest on the words 
of Jesus found in St. John 8: 29: 
"I do always those things that 
please Him." 

" Mamma, I have found such a 
good verse," said N eliie, as she 
read it aloud. " I would like to 



-1 

floor T 



Poor sad humanity, 
Through all the duat and heat. 
Turns back with bleeding feet, 
By the weary road it came. 
Unto the simple thought 
By the Great Master taught. 
And that remaineth still : 
Not he that repeateth the name. 
But he that doeth the will. 

~H. W. LonBfellow. 



the little room on the gronnd lloor 
in which they lived. The win- 
dow waa open, and, poaaibly, the 
wordtwere heard outtidn, with 
which the weaver ttro«-e to keep 
up their ooarage : "The Lord 
helpa." Pr«Mnlly a street boy 
looked aaocily in, and threw a 
dead raTen at the feet of the pious 
man. " There, aaint, there is 
something for you to eat ! " he ' 
cried, tauntingly. 

The weaver picked up the | 
dead raven, and ttroking its | 
fealhert down, taid compattioii- i 
ately. > 

"Poor creature! thou must 
have died of hanger," 

When, however, he felt iti crop 
to tee whether it waa empty he 
noticed aoraething hard, and wiah- 
to know what had caused the 
bird'a death, he began to examine 
it. What wiaa hia aurpriae when, 
on opening the gullet, a gold neck- 
lace feU into hia hand ! The wife 
looked at it confounded ; the 
weaver exclaimed, " The Lord 
helpa!" and in haata took the 
chain to the nearett goldamith, 
tv<ld him how he had fomid it, 
and received with gladneta two 
doUara, which the |[oldamith 
offered to lend him fbr hit preaent 
need The goldsmith toon cleaned 
the trinket, and recognited it as 
one he had teen before. 

■' Shall I tell yon the owner ? " 
he aaked, when the weaver 
called again. 

" Yes," was the joyful answer, 
" for I would gladly give it back 
into the right hands." 

But what cause had he to ad- 
mire the wonderful waya of God 
when the goldamith pronounced 
the name of his matter at the 
factory ! Quickly he took the 
necklace and want with it to his 
former employer. Inhisfamil;, 
too, there waa much joy at the dia- 
covery, for tuapicion wat re- 
moved from the tervant. But 
the merchant waa athamed and 
touched ; he had not forgotten 
the wordt uttered by the poor 
man when he waa dismisaed. 

" Yet," he laidthoughtfoilv and 
kindlr, " the Lord helpa ; and now 
you shall not only go home richly 
rewarded, but I will no longer 
leave without work ao faithful 
and piona a workman, whom the 
Lord ao evidently atands by and 
helpa ; you shall henceforth be no 
more in need." 

Thua He who fed Elijah bv 
living ravens, proves Himself 
equally able to supply the needs 
ot His tried servant by the same 
bird when dead. — From " Tale* 
of Trust." By H. L. Hastings. 



i 



^H9 



f lllli 



REPRINTKI) STORIES, KHOM TMK "NORTIIKHN MRSSKNGKR." 



U3 



lllK FKNNEC. OU HAHAKA 8T0IURS FKOM I'YUAMIDS Kio<lni;»«iii>|>o«itK>ii to which tho 

^^^' In th- (UHlhma,,; M„^r„zin. i. •"°"»°»';»"'t t'i..ro«lyphio4 bear 

Thefeniieo U .n inhnbiUnt ol »n srii.l.. „„ ih.. I'yr^mi.U. lur- •""«U'"-"nioay m utl..rly ornit- 




bushy (til, which is about tight 

iiichea long. 

It ii Mid that the fennec, al 



t 



anon «ttlnff upright and roRnrd- [ Thcr. nr. r...u«in» .,f..xty.uin.. wr/.'^rftheTed *./"" 

ing tha proap*ct with mar vol Ion. «t Da,h.,ur ni, I S-iitkura, ol diver» l, „ »„j ,h»i ihe IVvntian. re- 

gravity. Tho color of the fonnoc fo,„„_o,.« l.,.„.^ built .u live li„ mVy .vo.dti a^^^^^^^^^ 

;dmoiT7cr?:«v'wZ»n'^«''*Th! ''''''"''^/ t..rr«j..H-\..d o( overy 3;;," vl^r c\ "l m.;!:? mT h.i? 
ulinoat a creamy whiten.-... The ,wo ; from ih.' .a.rci.t .airii of kiiitf and it i. v-ry n-mHrk-blo 

fh .?nn„r».Hr .['.''' • "V"' <»»l"°'"»' "f '^e ,m.,r ; Kradu- ,„u„a ,o ail lUe olher IWaoh. 
h^\.,?rmi?i. vihnK n Hi'' "'y 'dv»"c.ug to tl,o ,H,rleol while ih. .t...... that chronicle 

iiiarKed witn DiacK. which marked where richer mem- abruptly, without any mention 

The full grown animal m quite i bor. of the community .lept their ol hi', death Moreover while 
■mall, moaanring .carcely more laat .leep. ^n hi, roval brethren were .uc 

than a foot, exoluaive of the The majority of lhe.e are built ' ceed.-d each by hia elde.t .on, it 

of crude brick, baked in the .un, i.expreiMily .taled that ho wa. 
and are far more recent work. Kucceeded by hi.t .econd .on — 
than the viant. at (}izeh Iti. while the "death of the lirat- 
thongha carnirorou. animal, do- ^ .uppoaed that .ome of theao may born" i» altogether ignored, 
light, to feed 
upon rariou. 
fruit., p.pecially 
preferring the 
date. It i. alw> 
said that it can 
climb the 
trunk o f t h o 
date palm and 
procure for it- 
•elf the coveted 
luxury. 

This creature 
prose II ta a 
strange medley 
uf characteris- 
tics that have 
been a stumtt- 
linir block t o 
.yatcmatic zoo- 
logist., and it 
ha. been fre- 
uuently trauH- 
terred by them 
from one por- 
tion of the ani- 
mal kingdom to 
another. Now, 
however, it i. 
admitted that 
the fennec be- 
long, to the 

genu. VtUptit, being a congener 
with the various foze. of the Old 
and New World.. 

Like veritable foxes, the fen- 
nec ia accustomed to dwell in 
subterranean abodes, which it 
scoops in the light undy soil oi 
ita native land. Ita fur i. of con- 
siderable value among the na- 
tives of the locality wherein it is 
lound; it ia said to be Ihe warm- 
est found in Africa, and is highly 
prised for that quality. 

The fennec is a quaint little 
creature, wearing an air of pre- 
cocious self-reliance that has 
quite a ludicrous eilect in so 
small an animal. The color of its 
eye. is a beautiful blue ; and the 
whisker hairs which decorate its 
face are long and thick in their 
texture and white in color. The 
fennec is identical with the fox- 
like animal named "zerda" by 
Ruppell and "cerdo" by Illigcr. 
the fmallor animal is the Jerboa 
or jumping mouse. — Ex. 




FENNEC. — (yulpes Zaaremit.) 



iH9 



have been among the labors of 
the Israelites to which Josephus 
alluded when, speaking of the 
Egyptian tusk-masters, he says, 
" They put them to the draining 
of rivers into channels, walling 
of towns, casting up of dykes and 
banks u> keep off inundations; 
nay, the erecting of fanatical 
pyramids. ' Scientific men are 
able in these old bricks to distin- 
guish barley from wheat straw, 
or beau haulm from stumble. 
One ]>yramid at Dashour has been 
especially noted, its bricks being 
made almost without straw, just 
the merest indications thereof, as 
though made in time of some 
great scarcity — like t hat when the 
Israelite, gathered atubble instead 
of straw. An old wall of pre- 
cisely similar bricks was found 
at Heliopolis, five mile, below 
Cairo— each brick bearing the 
Cnrtouche or royal mark of 
Thothme III., who is generally 
supposed to be the Pharaoh of the 



AN IDOL TRIED AND FOUND 
WANTING 

Mr Uoper, the noble African mis- 
sionary, when he was at Ibbadan 
used often to tallt to a clever hea- 
then woman who was a merchant 
there, and try and persuade her 
to give up hei faUe ifoAn and to 
believe in Jesus ; and he told her 
that Uod was her Father, and 
knew all that loncerned her. The 
woman listened and half believed 
but she was friirhtened that if she 
became a follower of the true 
God, her god would be angry 
with her. Not that she was al- 
together pleased with her own 
god, for sometimes she knelt 
down before his image, which 
was made of matting and wood, 
and drewed up with rags of cali- 
co wound round it, and asked 
him to .end her good luck niid 
prosperity, and yet sometimes the 
luck all went against her and th^ 
bargains turned out bad ones, 



then .he would irn home in s rage 
and seiild Ihe image, hikI some- 
tiiui's even would take a harolKio 
stii'k and give it a gcKxl beating. 
One day, when she had heard 
Mr. Koper preach, she went home 
and she look this image into a 
back room which was empty, and 
placed it in Ihe middle o( Ihe 
floor, and said, " Now I've brought 
you here, and I am going away 
trading for three month., and I 
will lock the door and yon will 
Ite .ale; hut thi. prayer-roan says 
yon are not a true god, and can- 
not take care of me, and that hia 
God can, so I will make this bar- 
gain with you — if you are worth 
anything you can take care of 
yonraell. Now, if yon are all 
right when 1 come back, I and 
my family will always worabip 
yon a. of old ; but if a rat get. to 
you and eats you I will pray to 
you no more — for I .hall know 
what the pray- 
er-man Mya is 
true." So she 
locked the door, 
and went away 
with Ihe key in 
her pocket. 
Three months 
paMed, and she 
returned to 
Ibbadan ; h e r 
friends and chil- 
dren were wait- 
ing to welcome 
her, bu t she 
pushed through 
them, and went 
straight to the 
room where she 
had left her 
god. Hhe look- 
ed at it, and 
ran away with 
it to Mr. Roper. 
She threw the 
gnawed thing 
down before 
him, and ex- 
claimed, "He 
could not take 
care of himself. 
Your Ood ha. 
sent a rat ; teach me and my chil- 
dren to be prayer people I" 



It 18 not by books alone nor by 
books chiefly, that a man is in all 
his points a man. Study to do 
faithfully whatsoever things in 
your actual situation, then and 
now, you find expressly or tacitly 
laid down to your charge. That 
is your post; stand in it like a 
true soldier. Silently devour the 
many chagrins of it — all situations 
have many — and see yon aim not 
to quit it without doing all that 
is your duty. — Carlyle. 



Many seem to think that tu be 
a believer is to have certain feel- 
ings and experiences, forgetting 
all the time that these are but 
the floweis, and that the fruit ^ 
must follow. — M'Cheynt, ^ 



^ 




15KPRINTKI) STORIES. FHOM TMK "NORTHERN MRKSENOER.' 



C'HINRHK CHILDRKN. 



■T MRH. KVMA I>. HMITIt. OF 

PAWO-ClllUNtl, HIUNTI'Nd, 

NOHTII «lll>.». 

Do yon eror woiiiIit wb*t n 
Ohinosti <Uy-«cbool la likw t Hti|>- 
poitnff we Hkip (>vt*r to tho went 
«nd of tbia rillaffu, ami taku a 
p«ep at th« bujra achool, Tbt* 
village lenda ua ita achoulbuua«t, 
and we miiaionaiitta I'urniih a 
Kood Chriatiau teacher, and they 
itndy Chriatuu) hooka for part uf 
the time. 

Aa we gonp the front atepa, 
what ia all thia fearful rocket/ 
Do yon feel a little delicate abont 
Xoing in leat you ahonld intrude 
on a quarrel of aome aort f U, 
but yon needn't .' The little boyi 
in onr achool are not tearing each 
other'a hair, nor acratchtiig each 
other'a oyea out, nor knocking 
each other down ; not it hit uf ii ' 
They arejuat Aomif whiit overy 
i^ood httlo Rcholar in China is ex- 
pected to do ; that i«, uvory 
mother's son uf them ia stiidyinir 
hia luaaon over out loud. By out 
loud I mean in a piTlcft roar. 

As thi>y do thiM m-iirly all day 
long, affood many of tbi>m quite 
rnin their voices. When you hear 
them trying to sing together it ro> 
minds yon of that other little frog- 
class which singse very evening ont 
on the village ranni, the last thing 
before |M)pping in for the night. 
You think little Hcholara who 
have to work like that must l)e sorry 
when they hear the nine-o'^jlock 
bell and laugh when it creeps 
around to tour in the afternoon < 
But there you've made another 
bi^ mistake. (), lively American 
chicks, who wrigfiiie and sqninn 
in Sunday-school and day-sohool, 
and hate being caged np any- 
where aa badly aa the wild birds 
do, what would you say if you 
had to go to Hchool with the iirHt 
streak of daylight, and if school 
kept till dark! If the Chiiiene 
scholars ease up life xomewhiit 
by not studying hard all the time, 
who can blame them V 

But if you think onr little long- 
queued friends don't know much, 
we will set them to reciting, and 1 
suspect, you'll be amazed to hear 
oven the wee ones reel off chap- 
ter after chapter and book after 
book. Une Peking scholar recit- 
ed the whole of the New Testa- 
ment at a single examination ! 
The Chinese have tine memories, 
and are always cultivating them 
and proud of them. But the 
scholars are often brought up not 
to care a iig what it all means, so 
their little bruins are only well- 
stored lumber-rooms. 

It is very hard work to get 
" Why !" and " How ?" into a 
Chinese school. The boys don't 
know why u thing is so, or" how 
it is 80, and they don't care and, 
what is worse, the native teacher 
don't want them to care. Why 
should he ? His life is hard 
cnongh, ttt best, and the " How V" 
and " "Why ?" laddies are a deal 



1^ 



more trouble 'o live with, ind 
take care of, as every American 
mamma will boar cheerful and 
ready leslimoiiy It hnsocitirred 
to the writer that to secure the 
ideal lioy it would only be ne. 
renanry to take a little Interrogn- 
tioii point (of course, ynu know I 
iiii'uii an American boy , and then 
a little Chinese boy just a*. I>iu 
and just as old, and roll them all 
up in a ball, when presto ! out 
would come the loveliest little 
fellow that ever wore a cap, ask- 
ing just (|Ueati<>ns enough and 
never one too many ! 

At the other end of the village 
where we live are the little girl 
scholars — bleas their dear little 
pinched' up aching toes and their 
long shilling braids a<id bright 
eyes ! Yon could love th 'in with- 
out half trying. A little maiden, 
not a thousand miles from here, 
had them all at her birthday 



" Little Dog. ■ ' LI'ile Banket. " 
" Little Fattv ' " Llllle Black 
One, " ■■ Little Idiot,' " Little HIave 
Ciirf ! Yoii know about the 
old lady who exhausted herself to 
think of a name for a little boy 
she had on her hands, and 
wh 

culled Iniii Jim I'olk 
run." The father and mother of 
one little boy here junt railed him 
"Dou-hnut, anil let him run 
He wanted very much to .-ouie to 
school, but it wouldn't be Chinese 
for him to teaae his papa and 
mamma (juKt hear what • sigh 
your mamma gave when she read 



UNTIL 



SBVKNTY 

HKVKN.' 



TIM!i8 



I 



IIY MiRnAIIKT E 

" I should have 'o ho 
through and through 
could believe in Tier 



»AItf»tT«H. 

changed 

before 1 

again. ' 



linally gave it up and "ju«t Thus Mabel, with emphasis. 

md let nim " 1 may forgive her in lime, but 
I never can res|tectlier as I used 
to. Hhe has forfeited iny esteem, 
and we are much better apart for 
the fulur.i " t^o J^ouise, her dark 
eyi's lit with a gleam of resent- 
ment. 

One who remembered that the 

Master said, " Blessed are the 

NO he sent |H*aceraakers," had been striving 

to jilead his to quiet the quarrel, which, be- 



that senlenee 
grown-iip friend 



.uii.He with his parents, and he ginning with » misunderstanding 

was allowed to come. Dear little b. tween these two, had been fan- 

lellow' Though llie bright eyes ned by one breeie and another 
of the other boys can't see it, a '' ' 



dark, threiilening cloud hangs 
over \m head, and we look at him 





■■ 








l- , ' i:a »r' . • 1- 






1 




"11 


-«^. 

^^- 


1 


i^-^^jih.^'' ■" 




^. 


^ ^ f*^" 


j^^'-^^^^s 


^^ 


)Bfi 


///-= = 


. ■; -•.-. ; _ _ 


9!^^ 

--.-•* 


^^ 


=*^^^^^*^ 



THE V.V-TI.VO (l.VTE. PKKINO 



until it had become • steady 
llatne ; not likely to din in either 
heart. Two lovely girls, favor- 
ites with all their uiends, had 
gradually drifted apart, and it 
seemed na though they woald 
never be reconciled. And the 
end of the lastellortat placating 
the disturbed elements was reach- 
ed in the sentences quoted above. 
Dear Mabel, I wonder if yon 
knew what a |irufonnd truth you 
stateil when you impulsi I v de- 
clared that you would hav to be 
changed through and through 
before you could fully forgive 
one who had offended you. I 
wonder whether the numbers of 
people who go about nursing 
grievances, cherishing animosi- 
ties, and refusing to pardon a 
wound which has touched their 
vanity, realize how unlike Christ 
ii precisely this havdness of 
heart. 

He enjoins npon us the duty of 
forgiving the sinner, until we 
cease to count the number of 
times that forgiveness may be ne- 
cessary. He forgives us over and 
over again, there being no limit 
to our ill-desert, as there is no 
limit to hia loving-kindness. 

If fully, freely, readily, and 
once for all, we can forgive one 
who has injured us ; if we can so 
humble our pride oa to meet the 
with a wistful yearning, for onr j person half-way, or perhaps, to 
missionary doctor savs he has a|»«ek the restoration or amity in 
latftl disease and willhave only a i 'he Hrst place, we are shuwina 
short time lor earthly teaching the fruiU oldiscipleship. 
Dear children with sweet Chris- It may easily be that, amonir 
tiitii mammas, will you pray lor wy readers, there are those who 
poor little Doughnut '. Though ai"" kept away from the Saviour, 
his grandmother Ih a Christian, a"«l linger outaide the kingdom. 
his inainina doesn't love Jesus atj"*' because they have not learn- 
all, and how can she comfort his I «d '» forgive ; because they re- 
little heart, going down into the i (^"f '<> learn the full lesson in 
deep valley ! Pray that the dear ; Christ's way. "Changed throuL'b 
.Shepherd may lead him along so i |"><1 through ! " Yes, the chang< 



party a while ago They jilayed 
" Drop the handkerchief," just a« 
you dc, only they use their belts 
and call it "Drop the girdle." 
They also played " lilind man's 
bnfl," after your fajliion, finding 
it rather hard to ritch their little 
American hostess, with her free 
dancing feci. Then wo all .sat 
down on the lloor and i>layed a 
game of jack-stones. Think of 
their knowing that too Isn't it 

droll? Their game is a little dif- . ^ o . 

ferent from you r.s. They call it gently that, before he shall have i '* "*?«-''If'»l and vital. 

"Bah Bah." Fancy the clever found out that the road is hard and } Beware, too, of the 

little witches putting "Sally over steep, he will find hiiuHelf inside j of "trife. 

the log," " Sally over the fence," the heavenly told in the Shcp- 

" beauN in the pot," " horses in herd's own blessed arms. One 

the stable," " ri<ling the ele- thing more. Ask Ood to take all 

phant," " setting the table," and these bonny boys and girls of 

coming out triumphant on the ours and make them, by and by, 

" double lives," having beaten us into teachers, preachers, and 

soundly. j Bible-women, who shall do noble 



beginuinLi 



It it the mtle Ml within th* lot* 
Thtt hy and br will oaks mnsie the 

BUtC." 

— S S. Timet. 



And 
Fancy 



the children's 
them calling 



names ! 
children 



Men are naturally tempted by 
the devil, but an idle man posi 
wprk for him. — Missionary //rr- ^ lively tempts the devil. — Spamsn 
aid. \ Prnvf.fh. 






«(-»« 



'HAMMKR-IIRADED HHAKK. 

Thn haraner-hMMlnd ihark 
iZ.vfiwx* mnlUrnt) it • very r.-- 
markahle liih, an i hw Irom an. 
I'liint liraeii uioited gxnoriil stUtn- 
tion. It rMwmblot othf m of (ho 
•hark tuaiU in the number ami 
poaition «<t(ta Ina, but ia diatin- 
iruialitMl f^a thf>m and all othfr 
vi>rtebratM animala bjr tli« lateral 
•'xpan<ion of Ihu head, «>i|Mcially 
of the bonaa and cartijaifn around 
ih« eyea, ao that Ibit h-nd rx- 
•4«mblt>a a hammer, Iho i',<>a bf. 
inK piacad at the projectinff vx- 
tremiiica. 

Thix Hihin found hi the Medi- 
terrannan 8«a, und aometimfi 
atra^i aa far aa tho northern coaat 
of Europe, It ia about aeren or 
eiflfht feet long, but ■peci- 
mena hare been found elevon 
and twelrn feet in lenifth. It* 
body ia oorered with a granu- 
lated altin, the upper aido beini; 
of a grayiih brown, and the 
under aido a ffrayiah w hiti> ; 
the large eyea are golden 
yellow. The teeth are long, 
■harp, almoat triangular, 
and aerrated on tho edge*. 

Ther aearch for prey 
arauna ahipa, Uersr er ku y» : 
"They are large, bidroux.ter- 
rible animala, and deatroy 
men whoaroawimming. »nd 
itia conaidered a aignoi ill- 
luck to iee (hem." 

Oil ia procured from the 
liver, but tho ileah is not 
good, being hard and ill- 
flavored. — From Hrehm't 
Aitimat Life. 



RKI'KI.NTKI) STJUMKS. KHOM TIIK 'NUiTIIKKN MKS>I-.N(;KB/- 



CH9 



*«inl. Hill the greateat diiy ol 
the yeiir, (he femival ;«ir firrl- 
Iritre „(• the twopL-, tli.' re»tl- 
val into which la compreM<d 
(he enaeiii-e of (he fun and enjoy- 
meiil Hlid hiippiiii-mi of all (he 
other dnvipiii logelhar, ix the fen. 
tival of l)ie New Year We mnv 
be fiiniiliar with the ceiebradoii 
ol thi< day in I'lsriii or New I'ork, 
but proceeilingR there are (aine 
and Iitelena when rompnred with 
the k|>oiitHneoui otilhurnt of re- 
joit'iiig V. hl<'h (haraclvnxea New- 
Year'* Day III Japan. 

Preparationa for It hare to be 
made weeki Iteforehmid, hoth 
public and private. The father 
ol'n family haa (o «eler( ai.d ]iiir- 
chaae the preneiitH whi<'h it will 
bo )lr rttiMrur lor ftim to make, 
not only to hia own runiily and 
hia intimate fr ends, but lo every 
one with <Thom he hna been 
brongli to the aiighteat bn«i- 



of men, and women, and rhildren. 
each 011)1 of whom hiia bin or her 
neweat gHrmo-it^ on, an<l all o| 
whom lire bent n|Min the one 
erraii'l of paying vmita. The old 
" firHt-rootiiig" rniiloin of the 
' north roun tree" find* i(a replica 
in thia fair land, fineen (houiinnd 
mileaaway. To he(he iimt viiitnr 
la conaidereil nn nnMpn'ion* aa to 
be late in conmdered the rereme 
And it m atrange to obaerve the 
orthodoi manner of paying a 
visit The olijiTt of tho vinit — 
generally the inaiterof the houae. 
aa hit family are abroad ditcharg- 
ing their •(K'ial dutiea — la iea(ed 
irravely on the mnta at tho back 
of the room which opeiiH on the 
Kireei; a triiy with wine and 
Hweeta on one hand, and the in- 
evitable charcoal bracier on the 
other. To him a vinitor comea, 
carefully ahaking oil' hia c loirs o' 
(he door ; he proa(rates buiuelt 



.11 iiiiiiiliar converaatt"]-. 
fore taking hia leave tho vi* 
aitor ilrona, ns It were by ao i- 
dent, hia Ni>w Ycar'a gi!t, nea.i 
tied up in pa|»'r by gold (hreoo, 
and \\\\\\ a ren.wal of gutturala 
anil proatratioii* back* hiraaelf 
out, and prcKeeda to hia neit 
honae of cull. This iroeion in all 
dircctidiiM throtiglioiii the morn- 
ing during which time the num- 
ber of pipea ainokeil — each pipe, 
It should lie home in mind, con- 
sisting but of a couple of whilfa— 
and cups of wine drank by the vi- 
aitors la aiiniily incalculable.— 
Ex 



NBW-YBARS DAY 
JAPAN 



IN 



Th« Japaneae have more 
than twenty fanciful iiamea 
by which (hey designate 
their beantiful country, but 
the tobriquel which to a 
foreigner aeema the moat 
fitting ia certainly the Land 
of Holiday!. No excuse is 
too trivial for a Japanese to 
make holidaya, and when Lu doea 
not make them himself, (he gov- 
ernment politelv steps in and 
makca them for tiim. Thus, one 
day in every aiz, called i''<^i' roku, 
is t. atatute holiday ; so is the 
third day in every moon, whil.st 
the liat of national fesli*. ds com- 
memorativo of great mou or of 
grekt deeda ia simply inexhausti- 
bla. If a great man dies in Eng- 
land, they commemorate him by 
■\ monument in Westminster 
Abbey; if* great man dies in Ja- 
pan, he is remembered by a holi- 
•lay ; so that what with the my- 
thical great men who are thus 
remembered, and the historical 
great men who have died during 
the paat five thousand years, it is 
■\ little diffionlt to find a day oi 
the Japanese year which hits not 
the name of a celebrity atiached 
to it ; just as, in glancing down a 
Roman Oatholio calendar, wo find ^ 
that every day haa its particular ' 




BA.MMER-HEADED SHARK. 



nesa contact dnrintr the paat, 
vear; the mother innst see thatj 
her children'tt new dresses are 
ready. an<l that the domestic, 
arrangements lur the great fes- 
tival are in order; the daiuselsi 
must decide in what fashion the 
ofti, or muih. ib to be worn, ori 
whether beetles c>r buttertlies are 
to be en r'gel ior hair-piiis ; thej 
eervants are already cleaning and 
sweeping out the house, so that ' 
it may present a sjiolless face to the i 
new year; the tradesman ascer- 
tains that his hooks are duly bal- 
anci'il, so '.hat he may start afresh 
Willi a clean bill of health; and 
so on, through all grades and 
classes of society. 

Early in the morning — that ia 
to say, early for the Japanese, 
who by no means harmonize in 
their ideas, with the name given 
by them to their country, the 
Land of the Rising Sun — the 
streets are thronged by a crowd 



upon the extreme edge o< the 
matting, his forehead touching the 
mats, and his hand placed under 
his shoulder. Delivering himself 
of a few guttural aounds, he 
moves forward a few inches, and 
indnlges in another prosiration, 
and so on until he ia within a 
couple of feet or so of tho reci- 
pient of his )>olitene8s. The latter 
then addresses him in a language 
of compliment and sell'ubase- 
mciit which is fcimply untrans- 
latable, but tho drift of which 
is that he is utterly un- 
worthy to be the object of «iich 
attention from such an honorable 
lord, and that in all humility he 
begs that ho will accept a cup of 
wine. Tho still prostrate visitor 
declares himself to be so utterly be- 
neath contempt aa not to think of 
taking such a liberty ; but he in- 
variably does so, as a real refusal 
would give offence, and in 
a few aaoouds the pair are cn- 



A BIBLE HAKKI) IN A LOAF 
OF BKKAD. 

There is u Bible in Lncaa, in the 
State of Ohio, which was pre- 
Nerved by being baked in a loal 
uf bread. It now belong* to a 
Mr. Schebolt, who is a na- 
tive of Bchemia, in Austria. 
Thia baked Bible wa« for' 
merly the proj/orty of hia 
grandmother who waa a 
faithful Protestant Christian. 
I>uring one oi the season* 
when t!ie Roman Catholica 
were persecuting the I'ro- 
tesliintsin that country, n law 
waa paaaed thp' every Bible 
in the hrr.ns of the > "ople 
should be given up to tho 
priests, Ihut it might be 
burnt. Then those wlio 
uved their Bible had to 
conlrivi' diff'ercnt ways in 
order to try and save the 
precious Book. 

When the priests came 
around (o search the houae, 
ithapp«>ned to be bakinir- 
day. Mr*. Schebolt, tho 
grandmother of the preaent 
owner of this Bible, had a 
larire family. She had just 
prepared a great batch of 
dough, when she heard that 
the priests were coming. 
She took her precious Bible, 
wrapped it carefully up, 
and put it in the centre of a 
huge mass of dough, which waa 
to fill her largeat bread tin, and 
stowed it away in the oven and 
baked it. Tho priests came and 
searched the house carefully 
through, but they did not find 
the Bible. When the search 
waa over and tho danger 
Massed, tho Bible was taken out 
and found uninjured. That Bi- 
ble is more than a hundred and 
fifty vears old ; yet it is still the 
bread of life, as fresh and sw eet 
and good aa over. — Rev. D. Nimh, 
in Zion'i Herald. 

Be Ai,way.'< pleased nt what 
thou art, if thou desire to attain 
to what thou art not ; for where 
thou hast pleased thyself; thcrci 
thou abidest.— Qwnr/M. 

Cans't thou wait '. 'i Hen t\-ff 
success is secured ; for pationce is t 
success.— /i;o'i P.-.ni' . i 



Wb^' 



» 






REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THE « NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



I i 



HOW BENNY SENT NOTES 
TO HIS MAMMA. 



This w;^ too discouraging, and 
she began to cry 

-. ^ , . r\i. i I "Oh, dear! I wish mamma 

Out in a part of he country I ^„ y^ . ^^jj ^ i„„king 

wher'" It IS very hiUy, there stands y^MrMy doxvu at the top of the 
a red house at the foot of a steep ^ome chimney below. 
hill whose side is covered with ' 

birch and pine trees, and a thick " Mamma ! mamma !" he shout- 
undergrowth of brush. In that ed then as loud as he could ; but 
honselive two children, and wbnt the wind blew the wrong way 
do yon think they did one day ? snd took the shout up hill in- 

Their mamma was busy bak- stead of down. Then he said he 
ing, and they went to play by the would go home and tell her to 
little brook in the yard. They come. 

were making a bridge of stones " Oh, no, no !" begged Susie. " I 
there and that morning they don't dare to be lell alone ; there 
finished it. Then Susie's white might be bears among the trees, 
kitten tried it, and stepped across or a siuke. Don't go, Benny !" 
without once wetting her 
daintv feet. 

" Now that's done, and 
what'U we do next?' asked 
restleaa Susie. 

"I know," said Benny ; 
" let's go up on the hill and 
find where the brook begins. 
It's hard climbing.and mother 
thinks I ain't big enough ; 
but I'm bigger now than I 
was the last time I asked her." 

" Well, let's, go then," said 
Susie, eagerly, and off they 
started, hand in hand at firs ', 
but they soon found they each 
needed two hands to catch 
hold of the bushes and pro- 
jecting rocks, as they climbed 
up the hill close by the little 
bed of the brook. Up and 
up they went ; it was pretty 
tiresome, but there was tun in 
it, for the white kitten ran 
nimbly ahead and kept stop- 
ping far them, and the brook 
seemed to laugh out loud as 
it danced merrily to meet 
thenw 

" Haven't we gone as much 
as a mile ?" asked Susie at 
last, winding hci' arm around 
a young birch tree, while she 
stopped to take breath. 

" No, not more than three- 
quarters, I guess," said Benny. 
" See, there's our chimney 
down there and smoke going 
out. Mother's making pies " 

" Oh, then let's hurry !" 
Susie exclaimed starting 
again and as she pnshed 
around a thick briery bush 
there was the white kitten 
waiting for them just ahead, 
and there at last was the bub- 
bling spring, gushing from 
among the rocks, the birth- 
place of their dear brook. 

" Oh, Susie, make a cup of your 
hand and drink some water," said 
Benny, bending down to do it 
himself. 

"I can't! I can't! I am caught 
in the briers I" cried Susie, strug- 
gling as she spoke to disengage 
herself, but it seemed as if every 
thorn on the bushes reached out 
to catch her and she couldn't get 
away. 

Benny ran to help her, but only 
got his hands scratched, and when 
Susie turned her head the briers 
caught her curls so that she 
could not move away any more 
without her hair being pulled 



" Let's send a note to mimma 
by kitty ! " he exclaimed, " I've 
got some paper in my pocket and 
a little stub end of • pencil and I 
can print !" 

Susie stopped crying and 
watched with interest while Ben 
slowly printed down these words 
on a torn sjip of paper : — 

" Deer MaMa We aiR up here 
Tanglid in a BRiKe Bush. Cum !" 

Then he found a piece of string 
in his pocket and tied the note 
around the white kitten's neck. 
When that was done, he turned 
her head down the hill toward 
home and clapping his hands at 



^H9 




the little tumbling stream, which 
carried it swiftly out of sight. 

" Now she'll come pretty soon," 
he said, sitting down in perfect 
faith to wait. 

Their mamma baked her bread 
that morning and then the baked 
pies and mado cookies and got her 
dinner over before sba had time 
to think much about them. Then 
the stepped to the door to see 
how they were getting along and 
called them, but there was no 
answer. 

The wind blew in her face and 

the white kitten rubbed against 

her feet. % 

■^Where are the children, kitty?" 

she asked, looking down and 

then she spied the note tied 

around the white furry neck. 

She took it ofi and read the 

blurred words: — 

" DeeR MaMa We aiR up 
here, Tanglid in a BRiRe 
Bush. Gum!' 

She caught he; son-bonnet 
off the nail and started, bat 
hardly knew which way to 
go. They were up the hill, 
of coarse, but she might miss 
them. As she stood irreso- 
lute, right in sight down the 
brook came the little birch- 
bark raft, with a piece of pa- 
per pinned to it which was 
too wet to read, but it told her 
all she wanted to know, for 
now it was plain that they 
had gone along by the brook. 
So she started swiftly to 
the hill, pushing the bushes 
aside, with the little white 
kitten running before her, 
and as it was not nearly a 
mile, nor even a quarter, that 
the little ones Lad gone, she 
soon reached the spot where 
Susie stood weeping in the 
grasp of the brier bush and 
Ben sat patiently waiting at 
her side. 

Was there ever a tangle 
that a mamma would not set 
right ? Gently and skilfnlly 
she freed first the curls and 
then the little dress, and then 
with her light-hearted girl 
and boy followed the stream 
back ag^in, just in time to 
meet papa as he came to din- 
ner. — Youth's Companion. 



DRAWIiNO LESSON. 
OvUlil* Dr»wtng br HattIud Weir, u k dmrtu lauon (or th« roan* 



"Well, I won't," said Benny; 
■'but I wish I had some scissors or 
a knife, anyhow; I'm big enough." 

Then he sat down by Susie and 
they wondered what they should 
do ; would they have to go with- 
out dinner and supper ? Would 
they have to stay all night there 
on the hill ? 

" O, I am so tired !" said Susie 
moving her head a little, but it 
hurt so that she began to cry 
again. The little white kitten 
rubbed a;^ainst her and purred, 
but it could not help her. Yes, 
it could help her ! A bright idea 
Hashed into Benny's mind. 



her said in dreadful tones : — 

" Scat I Scat I" 

The frightened kitten darted 
down the hill and was quickly 
out of sight among the bushes. 

" Now mamma'll come !" said 
Susie, with a sigh of relief But 
Benny had thought of something 
else. 

" I'm going to send a letter in a 
boat now," he said, and again he 
slowly printed on another ragged 
slip : — 

" DeeR MaMa We aiR up heRe 
TangILD in a BRiRe. Cum. " 

This he fastened to a piece of 
birch bark, and launched it down 



A GOOD WORD FOR THE 
ENGLISH SPARROW. 

Yet withal the poor spar- 
row has many good qualities 
of which it becomes tu to speak. 
Has a family of little birds been 
taken from their warm nest and 
put in a cage outside the wiUv' iw? 
The sparrow will be the first to 
come and feed them. They may 
not be of his own race; it is enough 
that they are opening their 
mouths for food, and he will do 
his best to supply them. There 
have been many instances in 
which sparrows have done a deed 
of kindness like this, and have 
fed the needy ones day after day 
till they were able to provide for i 
themselves. — Little Unity. ' 



•H^ 



^SHt 



i 






REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



97 



BLACKBOARD TEMPERANCE 
LESSON. 

BY MBd. W. F. 0IUrT8. 




Boys and girls hare seen all 
kinds of signs— large and small 
ones, funny ones and handsome 
ones, wooden ones, tin ones, paper 
ones, cloth ones, netted ones, 
moving ones ; signs of all colors — 
red, blue, green yellow, white, 
black. Many interesting things 
are to be learned from signs. TSat 
in all that have ever attracted my 
attention the one which pleased me 
more than all others is the one of 
which I have given youapicture. 

I found it in a drug-store one 
day wSen I had a long time to 
wait, and had nothing to do but 
to read the names on the bottles 
and the signs hung about the 
store. 

I did not ask who had printed 
the sign, but I made up my mind 
that it must have been done by Mr. 
Solomon Wiseman. 

" How many cigarettes can you 
buy for ten cents, boys ? " 

" Twelve." Well, I will make 
a picture of them and leave you 
to jadgo whether you can get the 
worth of your money. 



p 1 s N 5 T^e &L ot) o ' t ') 

^INJURES THE VOICED" 

rHA<Es CANceR5 iNTHeMOimt?) 

1 HAKES BREATH BAD '^(^ 
' PREVENTS STUDY _ 
MAKE.S SORESNON'FACr 
" TAKES AWv^ SLEEP '""^ 
MAKES TREMSUMfl. MASS3S 

r deStorys good manners °D 

' MAK ES OTHEaSTtlHCQMFCmtABlEl j 

. Qtver-fASTC F4)R STROHC OfitNKfj 

" - £ TO PS ^QWti.^~%H^ 



must be done, and right away, to 
break up cigarette-smoking. The 
girlamnst hoip, too, for there are 
girls who smoke cigar- 
ettes! This little sum 
lyill show yon how fast 
boys and girls, and men 
too, are learning to use 
cigarettes: 

"In one year 14,000,- 
000 were smoked. In 
the next year 408,000,000 
were smoked. 

Not all of the druggists will 
put up (he sigii"Jio cigarettes 
sold to boys." Neither will all 
btreet-?ar conductors do as one I 
heard about. Two very small 
boys smoking cigarettes stopped 
the car one day and got on. They 
each offered the conductor half 
fare. •' No," said he, " if you are 
largo enough to smoke cigarettes 
you've got to pay full fare." And 
so they did. 

" Well," I hear a boy say, " if 
cigarettes are such bad things, I 
will save my money and buy 
cigars." But cigars are danger- 
ous, too. Senator Cai ^nter was 
in the habit of smoking twenty 
cigars a day, and it killed him. 
Senator Hill died only a short 
time ago with a cancer in his 
tongue that was brought on by 
always having a cigar in his 
mouth. Mr. Delmonico, a well- 
known restaurateur in New York, 
died within two years from smok- 
ing. Hundreds, yes, thousands, 
of similar cases might be men- 
tioned. — Youth's Tem- 
perance Banner. 



THE TIME FOR RE- 
VENGE. 

An Eastern story 
tells of the haughty 



These things are not p- ° 'ted 
on cigarettes as they are ii. my 
picture. Would that they vere! 
for then I think boys would be 
afra^ to buy thorn. But they 
are badly mixed, in a small 
quantity, in each cigarette. 

A boy who has never seen a 



favorite of an Oriental 
monarch, who, as he 
was passing, threw a 
stone at a poor der- 
vish or priest. The der- 
vish did net dare to 
throw it bac. at the 
man who had thus in- 
sulted him,for he knewthe favorite 
wa» very powerful. So he picked 
up the stone, and put it carefully 
in his pocket, saying to himself, 
"the time for revenge will by- 
and-by come, and then I will re- 
pay him for it." 

Not long afterward, this same 



cigarette made, probably does j dervish, in walking through the 



not know how so much harm can 
be rolled up in a little piece of 
paper, bo he must be told about 
it Some cigarettes are made of 
the stub-ends of cigars which 
have been smoked by men whose 
mouths arc filthy and diseased. 
Others have in them a poison called 
opium. The best ol them are made 
from miserable tobacco, not fit to be 
put in cigars. The paper covering 
of the cigarette looks harmless, 
bat it has mixed with it one 
of the worst of poisons, called 
" white lead." It is this which 
makes sores on the face and lips, 
and apoiU the tkseth. 
Now, boys and girls, something 



away, saying, "The time for 
revenge never comes! For if 
our enemy is powerful, revenge 
is dangerous as well as loolish ; 
and H he is weak and wretched, 
then revenge is worse than loolish, 
,it is mean and crnel. And in all 
cases it is forbidden and wicked." 
A better rule still is given by 
the Apostle in his letter to the 
llomaas ; " Dearly beloved, avenge 
not yourselves, but rather give 
place unto wrath , for it is written, 
vengeance is mine ; I will repay, 
saith the Lord. Therefore if 
thine enemy hunger, feed him; 
if he thirst, givo him drink; for in 
so doing thou shalt heap coals of 
fire on his head. Be not over- 
come with evil ; but overcome 
evil with good," — Child's Paper. 



city, baw a great crowd coming 
toward him. He hastened to see 
what was the matter, and found 
to his astonishment, that his 
enemy, the favorite, who had 
fallen into disgrace with the king, 
was being paraded through the 
principal streets, on a camel, ex- 
posed to the jests and insults of 
the populace. 

The dervish seeing all this, 
hastily grasped at the stone which 
he still carried in his pocket, say- 
ing to himself, " the time for my 
revenge has now come, and I will 
vepay him for his insulting con 
duct?" But after considering 
for a moment, he threw the stone 



A 



WISE MOTHER. 

I owe much to my mother's 
early instruction in truth and 
honesty. Lying, stealing, and 
drunkenness were crimes of 
which she impressed me with the 
utmost horror and disgust. 

A poor boy, engaged in carry- 
ing a gentleman's letter-bag in 
our neighborhood, stole a 
with some money in it. I re- 
member listening to the conver- 
sation of my father and mother 
on this subject ; the grief and dis- 
grace they painted in their des- 
cription of the theft made a great 
impression on me. 

I well remember, also, a cir- 
cumstance which was of the 
greatest importance to me, and 
ever inspired me with gratitude 
to my mother. One day I entered 
our home eating a cake ; my 
mother's quick eye fell upon it — 
she observed, too, that I made 
some attempt at concealment — so 
she questioned me : 

Who gave you that?" I 
answered, "The woman in the 
street whr sells cakes." 

She went into the corner of the 
room, where a rod was kept, then 
took me by the hand and led me 
to the woman.' 

" Did you give this little boy a 
cake?" 

"No." 

Whereupon the rod was vigor- 
ously applied in the presence of 
the people in the street who were 
looking on. My distress was 
great. 

At evening prayers my father, 



who had Deen tntormed of my 
disgrace, dwelt in a solemn 
manner on the sin I h<id com- 
mitted — the great crime of th eft 
and lies That was my first theft, 
and mv last,— Li/e of John Gibson, 
R.A. ' 



r 



LET ME GO!" 



Our old chief, Hnaisline Mar6, 
who up to thirty years of age was 
a savage and a cannibal is dead. 
He died June 17th, l-'Sl, very 
happily, after a painful illness of 
eight weeks. He continually ex« 
horted his people, as they came 
around his dying bed, to cleave to 
the Word of Ood, and to help in 
every way they could both their 
missionary and their native pas* 
tors. Bula, the chief of Lifu, came 
to visit him. He ca' led him and 
his son together, being two young 
men, and said, " Don't let tha 
world deceive you, neither set 
your hearts upon wealth : cleave 
to the Word of Ood : that alone 
can establish you in your chief- 
tainship." As' he lay upon his 
.g ... bed, he was seen to be cnntinnally 
letter ' engaged m prayer. When prayer 
was being ofi'ered for him that he 
might recover, he said, " Why do 
you, the Lord's people, try to draw 
me back to earth ? The Lord is 
drawing me up to Himself, and 
yon are holding me back with 
your prayers, just like a rope 
drawn at both ends. Oh, let me 
go, that I may be at rest ! " He said 
to his son, " I am going to leave 
you to fill my place; the Lord 
Jesus has come to call me" — 
Rev. Jjhn Jones, Mare Is'and, 
South Seas. 



A Useful Gander. — In a 
little village in Germany a gander 
used to lead a blind old woman to 
church every Sunday, dragging 
her along and holding her gown 
in its beak. As soon as she was 
seated in her pew the old fellow 
walked into the church-yard, 
where he stayed until the service 
wa3 over : then he appeared at 
the door, ready to lead Ms mistress 
home. One day a friend called on 
the old lady, and was surprised to 
find that she had gone out. " Oh," 
said her little grandchild, " there 
is nothing to fear; the cauder 
will take sue %i hu " 




'i*- 



m^ 



J 



y '98 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE'" NORTHERN MES8EWGEB." 



8I7CKBBS, AND SOME WHO 
USE THEM. 

"A fine warm sammer'a day 
How jolly it would be to have a 
dip in the sea, or in a running 
stream! Well, a pond is better 
than nothing, especially if it is a 
good large one and the water 
tolerably clear. Off we go !" 

Off they went, the master 
going with them, and giving them 
a word or two of caution oy the 
way. Ue had read lately of a 
strange and fatal accident which 
had oocured to a man when bath- 
ing in a pond ; it was a small 
pond too, and he was an expert 
swimmer. He had been exhibit- 
ing hii skill in diring to some 
boys who stood on the bank, and 
had remained under water a long 
time, longer than they would have 
thouffht it possible for any one 
to hold his breath. But at last he 
remained down so very long that 
the boys began to wonder when 
he meant to come up again. A 
gentleman passing near the spot 
asked the boys what they were 
looking at, and they told him. 

" How long has he been under 
water ''" he asked. 

" About half an hour," was the 
answer. 

" Half an hour '" 

"Well, a quarter of an hour, at 
least." 

"You don't mean that !" 

Yes, they did mean it, and the 
gentleman lost no time in render- 
ing assistance. The diver was 
then found with his feet firmly 
embedded in the mud or clay at 
the bottom of the pond. He was 
dead, end all efforts that could be 
made to revive him were in vain. 

So you see, boys, there are 
dangers even in a pond, and for 
those who can swim. Be sure of 
your ground, especially when it is 
hidden from your sight. Look 
before you leap, whether on dry 
land or in taking a header." 

" Well, but I want to know," 
says Duffy, " What made his feet 
stick?" 

"Why the clay, of course,'' 
another answers him. " You are 
always wanting to know " 

"Yes, but how?" 

" The same way that your feet 
stuck in that lane the other day, 
when your shoes came off and 
you were very near having to 
walk home without them. You 
are fond of experiments, Duffy. 
That was an experiment which 
might have taught you," 

" It taught me not to make 
short cuts through muddy lanes, 
but it did not teach me why the 
clay caught hold of my shoeB and 
held them fast. Experiments are 
not of much use unless you under- 
stand them," 

" What do you want to know, 
Duffy ?" said the master, 

" I want to know why my shoes 
stuck in the clay in Mud Lane the 
other day." 

" I'll snow you. Have any of 
you aver seen a sucker " 



"Tes, sir," said a little pale- 
faced boy, who smelt of 
peppermint ; " I hare got some 
Backers in my pocket Will you 
have one ?" 

He took out a buU's-eTe from 
the warm, sticky receptacle which 
he had mentioned, and offered it 
to the master with a look of 
pleasure, and was surprised to 
find that all except the master 
laughed at him. 

"Thank you all the same," said 
the latter, " but that's not the sort 
of a sucker I want." 

A shoemaker's shop was at 
hand, and there the master 
procured a circular piece of 
leather, to the centre of which he 
fastened^ a stout string. Having 



thing lately aboat gravitation, and 
yooknow that the earth attracta 
all thing! towardk itself— the air, 
aa well as more substantial bodies. 
The weight of the atmoaphere is 
about fourteen pounds to the 
square inch ; this piece of leather 
is soft, and fits close to the ston« ; 
it is wet, and that prevents the air 
from getting under it. Now, 
what is it that holds the leather 
down to the stone ?" 

" The air passing downwards 
upon it." 

" Right. Now lift the sucker : 
the stone comes with it. What is 
it that holds the stone up to the 
leather. 

" The air beneath it pressing 
upwards." 




A YOUNG MASTKE. 



soaked the leather in water to 
make it soft, he pressed it with 
his Teet upon a flat stone ; the 
leather ctnck to the stone, and by 
pulling the string ne lifted the 
stone, which was large and heavy, 
from the ground. 

" I have often done that," said 
one of the boys. " It's only a 
sucker ; that's all," 

" Yes," said the master, " and 
that poor man's feet were only 
suckers, and Duffy's shoes were 
only suckers. The clay did not 
hold them— they held the clay • 
just as this piece of leather holds 
the stone." 

■■ But how is it ? ' said Duffy, 
" That's what I want to know " 

" And that is what I am going to 
tell yon. You have heard some- 



" Right again ! And what was 
it that held theshoes to the groimd 
in Mud Lane?" 

" The air of course ; I see it 
now" 

" Yes ; and if your feet had 
been as close to the leather inside 
your shoes as the leather was to 
the clay, so that no air could have 
got between, you would have 
been fixed to the shoes, as your 
shoes were to the lane." 

"That would have been awk- 
ward. But how did that poor 
man's feet stick to the bottom of 
the pond ? There was no air 
down there," 

" No ; but the air pressed npon 
the water, and the water upon 
his feet ; so it came to the same 
thing. Unfortunately, he had no 



shoes on, BO he could not disengage 
himself as yon did." 

" And is it the air that makes 
thingB Btiok together generallf ?' ' 

"Oertainlr not I must tell 
yon about tLat another time. It 
IB hardly correct to say in thia 
case that the leather ' stioks' to the 
stone. It ia preased againat it, 
just as I preia a sheet of paper to 
the table by laying the weight of 
my hand upon it. When I hit my 
hand the paper is free ; so if the 
air were lifted from the sucker, 
aa it might be by placing it luder 
the receiver of an air-pump, the 
stone would be released. There 
is no stickiness in cither case, 
nothing but pressure. 

" Observe now, when I bef^n tc 
lift the sucker, the leather rises a 
little in the centre ; that makes a 
vacuum between the leather and 
the stone. The more I pull the 
greater the vacuum becomes ; and 
when the resistance of the vacuum 
equals the weight of the stone, 
the stone is lifted." 

" Then there is no suckinc after 
all, though it is called a sucker?" 

" I don't know that you could 
have a better name for it. Some 
people say that there is no snch 
thing as suction. But the effect is 
visible in a thousand different 
ways, and it is produced by 
drawing away the air from the 
substance acted upon. Flies walk 
upon the window pane, or on the 
ceiling, by the help of suckers in 
their feet. The suckers are very 
numerous, and are opened and 
closed in succession with such 
rapidity that the fly seems to glide 
alonff, yet it never quits its hold, 
but keeps some of the suckers 
closed while the others open. If 
you were to apply a powerful 
microscope to the opposite side of 
the glass, where the fly's feet are 
presented to view, you would be 
able to observe the process. 

" There is a species of liiard, 
weighing four or five pounds, 
which runs up and down the 
smooth walls of the house by the 
same process. 

" You have seen pictures of the 
walrus, I dare say. It is a kind 
of seal, but grows sometimes to 
the size of a large ox. It clambers 
about over the icebergs in the 
Northern regions, going up and 
down the steepest slopes or 'slides' 
without slipping How do you 
think it is enabled to do that ?" 

" It has sharp nails in ita feet, I 
suppose," 

" ShMp nails ? Snch as the 
blacksmith puts into a horse's 
shoes in frosty weather ? Is that 
whatyou mean ?" 

" Well done, Duffy! Or perhaps 
they wear spikes, as we do, for 
cricketing, I wonder where they 
get them ?" 

It was a schoolfellow who said 
this. 

" I did not mean that sort of 
nails ; I meant claws, of course,' 
Duffy answered. 

" What do you say to suckers ? 
The feet of walrus are so formed 
that they can exclude the air from 



up and 



u the 
horse's 
la that 






REPRINTED STORIES, PROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



under them, and thna form a 
vacaom. The tmoothneM of the 
ioe becomes a help to them in this 
way ; and they can cling to it as 
• fly does to glass " 

" I wish 1 coold see them do 
H." 

" Yon can see the same thing 
every day — a creature climbing 
up a wall and carrying his house 
with him " 

" Yon mean a snail." 

" Yes; the snail makes aTacuum 
in his shell, and then the air 
presses him to the wall up which 
ne crawls. Take hold of a snail 
auddenly, and you will find him 
«asy to remove ; but give him 
time to fix himself and he will stick 
tight and tome off at last with a 
little squeak, caused by the air 
rushing into the vacuum he had 
made. 

" Limpets fix themselves in like 
manner to the rocks under water ; 
and there are a great number of 
fishes which do the same. 

" There is one in particular, 
called a sucking fish, which 
carries its sucker upon its head, 
as a boy does his cap ; only it is 
a fixture in the fish's case. The 
sucker is a disc with a broad 
flexible edge to it, not unlike the 
leather sucker we have been 
experimenting with. The fish 
fastens itself by the crown of its 
bead to any object, such as a ship's 
bottom,orto anotherand larger fish 
a — whaleor a shark — so firmly that 
it is almost impossible to remove 
it. It will be torn tc pieces rather 
than relax its hold. On the shores 
«f the Mozambique it is said that 
these fish are made use of to catch 
turtle A line is fastened by a 
ring round the sucking-fish, near 
its tail , and it is then carried out 
in a boat and dropped into the 
aea near a sleeping turtle ; it 
fastens itself by its head 
to the turtle and sticks to 
it tightly while the boat- 
men haul them both in together. 

" Yon have all heard of the 
cctopus? It has eight arms or legs, 
which are six times as long as its 
body; and each ol these is furnish- 
ed with 120 pairs of suckers. 
Some of these creatures are of 
great size; and it is said that 
boatt have been seized and 
dragged under water by them ; 
but you need not believe that un- 
less you like 

" It is also said that a sucking- 
fish of some sort fastened itself to 
the prsBtorian ship of Antony at 
the battle of Actinm and stopped 
it, 80 that it lost the battle , but 
you need not believe that either 
unless you like, although it is 
Pliny who tells the story. 

" The fishermen on the coast of 
Normandy assert that men havo 
been drowned bj octopu8es,which 
is much more intelligible ; as by 
attaching their long arms to a 
swimmer they might impede his 
movements and prevent him from 
keepiag himself above water." 

" If you try to drink out of a 
bottle, yon must let the air enter 
or yon will not succeed. You 



may make a vacuum by suction, 
but that will not bring the 
contents into yonr month 

" And now what is it that causes 

all these efiects of suction, as we 

call it ? What is the real agent 

that enables a fly to creep upon 

the ceiling, or a sncking-fish to 

fasten itself to a ship, or a limpet 

to cling t« a rock, or a baby to 

drink out of a bottle, or a calf to 

draw milk from ite mother's 

teats?" 

" The presureofthe air." 

" And what causes the pressure 

of the air?" 

" The attraction of the earth." 

" Yes ; gravitation is the cause 

of all these various results. And 

that is the force which keeps the 

earth and the planets in their 



said: -I don't know that I 
choose my companions by rule ; 
it is just as it happens. I am 
thrown with certain people at my 
boarding house or in the store ; I 
like some young men the moment 
I see them ; others repel me. A 
man has to do the best he can." 

" If you wish toeucceed," repli- 
ed his mentor, "you will take 
pains to have for friends only the 
honorable, the intelligent, and tho 
straightforward. It is a mistake 
not to have a standard of judg- 
ment." 

Young people do not under- 
stand, when they set gaily forth 
on the journey of life, that ♦hey 
are to be made or marred by the 
company they keep. Far more 
than we imagme, we are all mod 



(BmmxA, eM»im S$t\Aittt. 

" Tftkfl unto yon the whole armor of C}«d."— Km. 8 : 13. 
lUv. & BAU]l(MK)t'U>. 



Jo«. HiTm, wr. 




1. Onmrd, Chriitian aoldien, Uuching u to wmr, With the Ciom ol Jenu 
S. Like % mighty u - mjUoTeatheOhonhofOod; Bnthen,weuetiMdiiig 

3. Crowiuand thrones iii*ypwiah,KiiigdomiiriaeHidw>iie,ButtbeChimhafJe«iia 

4. On - wud, then, >-e people. Join the happy tbiong,Blesd with oon yonr Toice* 




P 



^ 



yl Muter Leeda a - gainat the foai 



■*-^ 



Oo - ing on be - fore. Chiiat the Boyd 

WherethesaintahsTetiod; Weare not di - Tid-ed, All one bo • dy 

Con - atant will remain; Qatea of heU can neT - er 'Gainat that ChoxtjhpreTail; 

In the triomph aong; Olory, land, and hon - or, Un ■ to Chiiat the King, 



h t : ■ f xrrnwm ^ 



^ 



-i — r 



^ 



:5M 



C=*: 



For - ward in - to bat - tie, 
One in hope and dootrine. 
We haTe Olmat's own promiae, 
Thia thro' oountli 



^m 



Sea, Hia ban-nen go. 
One in obar - i - ^. 
And that can • not niL 
Men and an ■ gela aing. 



^ 



Onwid, OhiiitiMi 




Tfff 



aoidienTMarehlngaa to war, WithtbaOiaaaof Je-eoa Gtoing onba-fon, 




proper places ; which causes the 
tides of the ocean, and all the most 
wonderful phenomena of the 
universe. Nothing is too great 
for it, and nothing too little, 
ordered as it is by Him who rules 
over all. 

" Now, hero we are at the 
water side, and gravitation will 
help you to take a good header 
downwards ; it will also help to 
bring you up again to the surface, 
in the same way that it makes a 
balloon rise through the air. — 
Boy'i Ovan Paper. 



THE TRUE STANDARD. 

"By what rule do you choose 
yonr associates?" said a merchant 
to his newly engaged clerk. The 
young man hesitated. Finally lie 



fied by our surrounding atmro- 
phere. A boy's father, for instance, 
has a low ideal of life. He takes 
the mercenary view that material 
success is everything, and that it 
makes little difference whether 
minds and hearts prosper or not. 
What can be expected of the boy, 
— unless indeed he have a Chris- 
tian mother, who can stamp her- 
self and her higher aspirations and 
convictions upon him ? 

In selecting a school or a college 
for son or daughter, the question 
should always be asked, "What 
style of companionship will this 
institution assure to its students ?" 
The whole tenor of many a life 
has been affected by the friend- 
ships formed in school-days Of 
this, almost any biography 
ftamiihes proofs — whether it be 



the published life of a conspicuous 
man, or the unwritten story of 
some one whose days have been 
passed in obscurity 

The true standard by which 
our friends should be measured, — 
the touch-stone, — the divining rod, 
— should be character. Does this 
person live with eyes uplifted to 
God ? Is that life consecrated to 
the Lord .Tesus ? Other and 
accidental things, — as social posi- 
tion, education, wealth, and 
family,— are to be regarded as 
secondary to this primary es- 
sential, in those whom Christians 
should select as their fellow- 
helpers on life's path. — Christian 
iHtelligenter. 



PRAYER BARRELS. 

I first met with prayer barrels 
on the borders of Thibet, when, 
travelling the narrow paths which 
wind along the face of majestic, 
precipitous Himalayan crags, wo 
met native travellers from still 
further north — traders driving 
flocks of laden goats, women with 
quaint headdresses of lumps of 
amber and large,coarse turquoises 
fastened on bands of dirty cloth, 
and here and there a man holding 
in his hand a small bronze or 
brass cylinder which he twirled 
mechanically all the time he was 

Cirneying. It was some time 
fore I succeeded in getting 
hold of one of these for a closer 
examination, as the owners are 
nervously afraid to trust their 
treasures in the hands of one who, 
albeit in ignorance, might 
irreverently turn them the wrong 
way, and so undo much of the 
merit acquired by perpetual 
twirliiAfin the opposite direction 
For, as we eventually discovered, 
not only is the sacred six-syllabled 
charm embossed on the metal 
cylinder, but the same mystic 
words were written over and over 
aeain on very lengthy strips of 
cloth or papyrus, which are bound 
round the spindle on which the 
cylinder rotates, and one end 
of which forms the handle. It is 
therefore necessary to turn this 
little barrel of prayers in such a 
direction that the characters 
forming the holy phrase may pass 
in proper order before the person 
turning, and as all Oriental books 
are read from the right side of 
each page to the left, the barrel is 
turned in the same direction. For 
the same reason the Thibetan 
walks in this direction round the 
great terraces and other buildings, 
on which the holv words are in- 
scribed, in order that his eyes may 
rest on the words in due course, 
which can only be the case when 
he Keeps his left hand toward the 
object round which he is walking. 
— Ute Contemporary Review. 



Often by illusions cheated. 
Often bafiled and defeated 
In the tasks to be completed, 
He, by toil and self-denial, 
To the highest shall attain. 
— LongfeOow. 



^i4t|ift4^ 



J 



I 



y 1 no 

"the 



« 



BEPFINTED STORIES FROM THE "NORTHERN iMESSENOER. 



m 



II Med 



INTELLIGENT COR- 
MORANT. 



A common sight in China to- 
day is the fisherman with his 
board of cormorants, ready to go 
over at the owner's word. This 
practice was followed in England 
in former times, and the master 
of cormorants was a prominent 
officer of the royal household. 
The birds are taken from the 
n«st when young and easily 
trained, and so rapid are their 
movements under water that 
rarely a fish escapes them. 
When taken out in a boat they 
are generally kept hooded by a 
wire mask, having also a leather 
collar about the neck to prevent 
their utilizing the catch for their 
own benefit. In China this bird 
is one of the daily 
sights to be seen 
on the canal or in- 
land streams, es- 
pecially in the 
neighborhood o f 
Ningpo. Here on 
the lake thj boats 
congregate, each 
propelled by a 
single Chinaman, 
with three or four 
cormorantg, roost- 
ing either on the 
rail or a platform 
made for the pur- 
pose. So perfect- 
ly are they trained 
that they obey the 
slightest word of 
the master ; and 
when ho gives the 
order ovor they go, 
and with remark- 
able speed begin a 
search under 
water, seizing the 
fish, rising to the 
surface and bring- 
ing the victim to 
the owner just ex- 
actly like a dog. If 
a large fish is cap- 
tured, these intelli- 
gent birds gj to 
e^ch other'c assist- 
ance, aiui with a 
combined effort 
bring it to their 
mast er, a f t e r • <t: ' 

which they are re- 
paid by the entrails — to them, in- 
satiate gluttons, the choicest parts. 
Other noted localities for cormor- 
ant fishing are the waters between 
the towns ol Hang-chow-foo and 
Shanghai ; also on the Min River 
near Foo-chow-tno. So import- 
ant are these fisheries that many 
persons are entrasred in raising 
cormorants and training tliera for 
the fishermen. One of the larg- 
est of these bird schools is situ- 
ated, or WIS a lew years ago, and 
probably is there yet, about forty 
miles from Shanghai, between it 
and Chapoo. Concerning the 
method of training them the 
owner gave the following reply 
to the questions asked by Mr. 
Medhnrst, interpreter of the 
British Consulate at Shanghai: 



' The fith-catching birds eat small 



fish, yellow eels and pulse JcHy- 
At 5 p.m every day each bird will 
eat sis tael (eight ounces) of eels 



AN 



OF 



ANCIENT VILLAGE 
THE 0N0NDAOA8. 
This village was in the present 
. _ town of Fenner,some miles north- 

er fish and a catty of pulse jelly, east of the Onondaga Valley, New 
They lay eggs after three years, York. It was situated upon the 



edge of a small lake, and covered 
about su acres of land. It was 



and in the fourth and fifth month 
Hens are used to incubate the 
eggs. When about to lay, their 

faces turn red, and then a good ' palisades of large timber, 30 feet 
hen must be prepared. The date ' high, interlocked the one with 
must be clearly written upon the the other, with galleries in the 
shells of the eggs laid and they i form of parapets. This village 
will hatch in less than twenty- was attacked by Champlain in 
five days. When hatched, they 1 1615 with a considerable force of 
take the young and put them j French and Indians. And &\- 
upon cotton spread upon water, (though the French had fire-arms, 
and feed them with eels' blood then for the first time heard by 
for five days. After that they can 'the Onondagas, and the help of 
be fed upon eels' flesh chopped a tower overlooking the place, 
fine, and great care must be they were unable to capture it. — 
taken in watching them. When , Presbyterian Uome Missionary. 



As soon as the one birdling of 
the familv appears, both parents 
address themselves to tenderest 
nursing, sharing mntnally all re- 
sponsibilities. 

Very olten,however,these happy 
household plans are seriously in- 
terfered with. Early in the soa- 




ONONPAOA VILLAOE, 



fishing, a straw tie must be put 
upon their necks to prevent them 
from swallowing the fish when 
they catch them. In the eighth 
or ninth month of the year, they 
will daily descend into the water 
at 1 1 o'clock in the morning, and 
catch until five in the nl'ternoon, 
when they will come on shore. 
Thoy will continue to go on in 
this way until the third month, 
after which time they cannot fish 
until the eighth month conies 
around again. The male is easily 
known from the female, it being 
generally a larger bird, and in 
having a darker and more glossy 
feather, but morn particularly in 
the size of the head, the head of 
the male being large and that of 
the female small."— iN^.Y. Pott. 



enclosed with strong quadruple | son brave-hearted banters go in 

search of the much-prized eggs — 
rare dainties they as table luxu- 
ries, and commanding fabulous 
prices ; but what fearful risks the 
intrepid egg-hunters run ! Com- 
rades lower them by ropes from 
dizzv heights, sometimes many 
hundred feet. Slowly, slowly 
thev go down, realizing, as only 
such can, that only the strength 
of a hempen cord and the power 
of two human hands are between 
them and sure death. 

The eggs of the 
great auk are 
about five inches 
long and three in 
breadth, and very 
curiously marked 
are they. Upon a 
silvery-tinted 
ground are char- 
acters resembling 
those upon Orien- 
tal wares. O u t- 
iined in green, pur- 
ple, blue, and 
brown are these 
quaint traceries, 
with occasional in- 
terrupting patches 
in which various 
shades are blend- 
ed. Sometimes 
one finds black 
lines irregularly 
crossing each 
other. 

Should an egg 
of yellowish tint 
oome to the hun- 
ter's hand, it mav 
be called a " red- 
letter day" in his 
calender, since 
such are esteemed 
of " royal lineage" 
in an k-1 a n d 
regions — as rare as 
gold itself. Upon 
this faint amber- 
tinted ground the 
wonderful hiero- 
glyphics stand out 
[in strangely beautiful relief 
Forty years ago only about 
thirty auks and forty eggs were 
recorded belonging to public and 
private collections. At one time 
fifty dollars were paid for two auk.s 
and two eggs; a little later half 
that sum for one egg ; and not 
very long since we read that five 
hundred dollars were given for 
one egg. 



AUKS' EGOS. 

the eggs of 
are such costly 



the 



No wonder 
..1/frt ivipennis 

treasures. No wonder either 
that Icelanders, hunting for auks' 
eggs, have a custom of uniting in 
singing psalms, and with bared 
heads reverently commending 
themselves to God in silent pray- 
er just before entering upon the 
perilous task. 

Emphatically is the great ouk 
a ledge-dweller during the arctic 
summer ; enticingly pleasant is it 
to them along ice-rimmed shelves ; 
and happy conples.many thousands 
of them, settle themselves con- 
tentedly, exchanging the snowy 
garb of winter for a sammer suit 
of glossy black. 



By the time a child enters his 
" teens," his habits of life are form- 
ed. By force of will or of circum- 
stances they may be modified, but 
they cannot bo wholly swept 
away. — Examiner, 

Ir TovR path is smooth;— 
watch and pray. T 

SH» 



t*m 



r* 



of 
enU 
rest 

re- 

ppy 

in- 

aea- 

in 



II 



REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THK ■NoRTilKKN .MKSSKNCER." 



101 



THE LADY AND THE 
OLAR8 



BUR. 



" Call npon me," mys Qod, ' in 
the dav of trouble, and I will de- 
liver thee, and thuu shalt glorily 
me." 

In a larffe and l''ne honse in 
the Bonth cf England lived a lady 
of piety and wealth, with only 
maid senranta in the dwelling it- 
self, her men servants being in 
cottages at a distance f?om the 
honse. It was her custom to go 
through the honse with one of her 
servants every evening, to see 
that the windows and doors 
were properly secured ; and 
one nighlt,aner seeing thai all 
was safe, she retired to her 
room, when, as she entered 
it, she saw distinctly n man 
under her bed. Whnt could 
she do ? Her servants were 
in a distant part of the house, 
where they could not hear 
her if she cried for help, and 
even if with her they were 
no match for a desperate 
housebreaker. What then 
did sho do? Quietly closing 
and locking the door, ns she 
was always in the hal>it of 
doing, sho leisurely brushed 
her hair, put on herdre.ssiiiq;- 
gown, and then, taking her 
Bible, sat down to read. She 
read aloud though in a, low 
and serious tone, choosing a 
chapter which had special 
reference to God's watchful 
care over those that trust 
him, whether by daj or by 
night. When it was ended 
sho knelt and prayed aloud, 
commending herself and ser- 
vants to the divine protec- 
tion, pleading their utter 
helplessness, and their de- 
pendence on God to preserve 
them from danger, and pray- 
ing for the poor, the sinful 
and the tempted, that they 
might be kept from evil, and 
led to put their trust in God 
as their Father and Friend. 
Then, rising from her knees 
and putting ont the candle, 
she laid herself down in bed, 
though, almost of course, she 
did not sleep After a few 
moments the man came out 
from his concealr-ient, and 
standing by her bedside, 
beggedlier not to be alarmed. 

"I came here," he said, " to 
rob you, but after the words 
you have read, and the 
prayer you have uttered, 
power on earth could induce me 
to harm you, r>r to touch a thing 
in your dwelling. But you must 
remain perteotly quiet, and not 
make a sound to alarm vonr ser- 
vants, cr to interfere with mo. I 
will give a signal to my compan- 
ions which will lead them to ^o 
away, and yon mav sleep in 
peaco, for no one shall harm you 
or disturb the smallest thing in 
yonr house." Ho then went to 
tho window and gave a low whis> 
tie, and coming back to the lady's 
side, said, "Now I am going. 



Yonr prayer will be answered, 
and no disaster will befall you." 
He left the room, and soon all was 
quiet; and the lady at last fell 
asleep, calm in the exercise of her 
faith and trust in Ood, her soul 
filled with thankfulness for his 
protecting goodness. The man 
proved trno to his word. In the 
morning it was found that not a 
thing ill the house had been dis- 
turbed. And the lady more than 
once and eariiegtly prayed that 
the man might bu led to forsake 
his evil courses and put his trust 
in that Saviour who came to seek 



determined to murder her, so that 
it was providential she took the 
course she did. Then before he 
went away ho said, ' I never 
heard such words before, and I 
must have the book out of which 
you read ;' and ho carried off her 
Bible, willingly enough given 
you may bu sure." 

This happened years ago, and 
only lately did the lady hear any 
more of the robber. She was at- 
tending a religious meeting in 
Yorkshire, where alter several 



own experience, that he never 
fails his people in the hour cf 
their need!~/(/M Chrii. Weekly. 



NAILED 



CANCELLED AND 
UP. 

There is a beantifnl Oriental 
custom of which I have read that 
tells the story of Christ's atone- 
ment on the Cross very perfectly. 
When a debt had to bo settled, 
either by full payment or forgive- 
it was the nsage for the 




ness, It was the nsage 
creditor to take tho cancelled bond 
noted clergymen and others had! and nail it over the door of him 
spoken, a man arose, saying that {who hcd owed it, that all passers- 
by might see that ft was 
paid. Oh, blessed story of 
our admission ! There is the 
cross, the door of grace, be- 
hind which a oankrupt 
world lies in hopeless debt 
to tho law. See Jesus, our 
bondsman and brother, com- 
ing forth with tho long list 
of our indebtedness in His 
hand. He Hits it up where 
Qod and angels and men 
mav see it, and then, as the 
nail goes through His hand, 
it goes through the bond of 
our transgressions to cancel 
it forever, blotting out the 
handwriting of ordinances 
that was against us, that was 
contrary to us, he took it out 
of the way, nailing it to His 
cross ! Come to that cross, 
O sinner ! Not i» order that 
you msy wash out your sins 
by your tears, or atone for 
them liy your good works, 
or efface tnem by your soph- 
istries or self-deceptions. But 
come rather that you may 
read the long, black list that 
is against you, and be pierced 
to your heart by compunc- 
tion and sorrow that you 
have offended such a Being; 
and then that, lifting up 
your eyes, you may see God 
turning His eyes to the same 
cross at which you are look- 
ing, and saying " I, even I, 
am He that blotteth out thy 
transgressions for mine own 
sake, and will not remember 
thy sins." — A. J. Gordon. 



i ■' JACK AND BLOSSOM. 

no I and to save the lost, and who, even ■ he was employed as one of the 
on the cross, could accept and save book-hawkers (or colporteurs) of 
the thief who was penitent. the Society, and told the story 

The deliverance ofthe lady raoy of the midnight adventure, 
seem wonderful, and tho story , as a testimony to the won- 
nlmost too strange for belief. But derful power of tho Word of God, 
some time after the occurrence a. concluding with, "I was that 
letter was received by the one ma» '" The lady rose from her 
who related it, fully corroborating seat in the hall, and said quietly, 
tho statement, and addinir some," It "s a" true; I was the lady! 
facts that enhance both the won-,*nd sat down again, 
dcr and the mercy of the escape. | If we had more faith in God's 
The letter says, "In the Hrst place, word, and more full and child- 
the robber told her that if she like reliance on His promises and 
had given the slightest alarm or His providence, should we not 
token of resistance, he was fully tar more frequently find, in our 



A Home without books 
is like a room without win- 
dows. No man has any 
right to bring np his chil- 
dren without surrounding 
them with books It is a 
great wrong to his family. Ho 
cheats them. Children very 
easily learn to read by being in 
the presence of books. The love 
of knowledge comes with the 
reading of books, and grows np- 
on it. And the love of knowledge 
in a young mind is almost a war- 
rant against the inferior excite- 
ment of passion and vice. 



Thou Invisible Spibit of 
wine ! if thou hast no name to be 
known by, let us call thee devil. 
—Shakespeare. 



% 



I 



ana- 



^M9 



r 



102 



REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



THF STORY OP SIU CHIN. 

BT msfl DANTRLL8. 

In the village of Toa-Po, in the 
Tie-Ie district, a poor family, anr- 
named Tie, live in two rooms 
and the house rented at that. 
There is no direct communioation 
between these two rooms.so in go- 
ing from one to the other, persons 
mpst go out of doors. One room 
is fnrmshed with two beds, a table, 
two cupboards, a bench and two 
chairs — this is the room in which 
Miss Norwood and I were invited 
to partake of tea, r«ke and candies, 
when we visited the family in 
October — in the second room is s ' 
bod, a loom, a chair and sma' 
articles used in cooking, besi< 
the loose stuff, sticks, dried grc 
etc., which belong to every vJc <• 
nese family and must be storet* . , 

The father of the family .s a 
heathen and an interpreter of the 
gods, the mother is a Christian 
and Bible-iecder, the elder 
son is a Christian and a 
theological student, the eldest 
daughter is a believer, but having 
married into a heathen family she 
is not allowed to worship the true 
Ood and onlv does it secretly ; the 
second daughter died many years 
ago ; the third, a bright girl four- 
teen years old, was betrothed to a 
heathen before she or her taother 
believed, and these betrothals 
being like .the laws of the Medes 
and Persians she will be obliged 
to marry this heathen and go into 
a heathen family to live, to the 
great regret oi herself and her 
mother. The second son is a 
believer but is kept iu the heathen 
schools at his home by his father. 
The fourth daughter is in the 
school at Swatow, and she is the 
little girl of whom I wish to tell 
you. Her name is Tie Siu Chin. 
Sin Chin came into the school less 
than two years since. She has 
the advantage of a mother's care 
and consequently the prospect oi 
being betrothed to a Christian lad. 
You may feel like smiling at the 
idea of a little girl only twelve 
years old being betrothed or " en- 
gaged to be married' as we often 
say, but this you know is the 
practice all over China and so it 
seems all right to these children. 
"All right" do I say? No! I 
think not. I believe that many 
of the girls rebel against the 
custom, aud feel in their hearts 
as bitter as many girls at home do 
in following fashions that are in- 
convenient and disagreeable. 
Yet custom in China is just as 
great a tyrant as fashion in 
America, and both work ruin to 
the domestic happiness which 
Ood ordained for the good of both 
Chinese and American girls. Siu 
Chin is said to be naturally very 
amiable and industrious, so that 
she undoubtedly has a pleasant 
life before her. The neighbors 
all praise her and say that she 
never deserves a beatinff. Her 
. mother says that when she was 



ing the woman spinning she 
urged her to teach ner to spin. 
She allowed her to go for many 
days but did not oelieve she 
could learn. She persevered and 
when she brought the yarn that 
she had spun to her mother she 
was greatly delighted. 

She was about eight years old 
when her mother and brother 
first beUeved, and they at once 
began evening prayers. She 
was always present, but her 
mother did not know how she 
felt about it until one night as she 
sat sewing. Sin Chin said to her, 
" Mother, do not sew now, I am 

"-y sleepy and want to go to 

, but I do not want to go un 

we hare had prayers." This 

aa before she fuUjt believed, but 



the devil, and interpreting for the 
false gods. Her father received 
the letter when there were many 
heathen present. He was very 
proud that she had written to 
him, BO he read it aloud, and 
showed the writing to the com- 
pany, who declared that the 
writing was good, but the words 
were not good. Then the mother, 
who was also present, told them 
many things about the gospel, 
and no one made an answer. 

While Siu Chin has been in 
school she has read the hymn- 
book, the lour gospels. Acts, 
Corinthians and Oenesis in the 
language of the common people, 
and she has read Exodus in the 
letters of the educated people. 
Bvory Christian Chinese woman 




after a time she came to school, 
and when she went home she 
wanted to pray with them. 

One day she said to her mother: 
" I want to be baptized." Her 
mother replied, " You are very 
small, and I fear you do not 
understand much of the gospel." 
She repeated, •' I positively want 
to be baptized, and be a disciple 
of Christ." She soon returned to 
school, and two communions after 
the brethren thought her a suit- 
able subject for baptism. 

Not long after this she wrote a 
letter to her father in which she 
said to him that she felt he ought 
to know the gospel, and she was 
exhort him to believe 



J- writmg to 

oaly six years old she went to in Jesus Christ and worship God, 
the house of a neighbor and see- 1 and to throw aside the affairs of 



1 1 oaly SIX 
4^ the hons( 



who can read gives hope for the 
native church, for though aa a 
a girl and a woman she be much 
neglected, as the aged mother she 
becomes monarch of the house- 
hold, and as a Christian her in- 
fluence is felt in everything that 
pertains to religious worship in 
the entire household. So we trnsl 
that all of our girls in the school 
are yet to be helpful in the 
church. 

Swalou), June 20, 1882. 

Does not this interesting story 
make yon want to help Chinese 
girls to know the way of life ? 
—Standard. 

GKTTINO A SITUATION. 
Mr. Silas Brown had advestised 
for a clerk. He wanted one to 



*1 

the O 



beffin in the lowest place m 
office ; but it found oomnetent he 
would be' advanced. Mr. Silas 
Brown was a sharp, and some 
said hard, business man. But he 
was just, and had a really kind 
heart under his sharp waya- 

Edward Clayton had seen the 
advertisement, and as ha wanted 
to do something to help his 
widowed mother, he determined 
to apply for the situation, though 
he had heard not a little about 
Mr. Brown's sharp ways. So ho 
presented himseit in that gentle- 
man's office, and told him why he 
had come. 

"Tour name 7 " said Mr. 
Brown. 

"Edward Clayton," was the 
response. 

"Age?" 

" Seventeen." 

" Ever been in business? " 

" No, sir." 

" What do you know ? " 

" My teacher, Mr. Grey, of the 
High School, will tell you that I 
stood well in my classes." 

" Do you smoke, or chew 
tobacco ? " 

" No, sir. My mother would 
not allow that, even if I wanted 
to." 

" So you are not too old to mind 
your mother," said the mer- 
chant. 

" No, sir." 

"Go to church?" asked Mr. 
Brown. 

"Yes, sir, and to Sabbath- 
school." 

'• If I employ you, will you do 
ex&ctly as I tell you 7 " 

" Certainly, sir," said Edward, 
" so long as you do not tell me to 
do anything wrong." 

" Well, that's cool, I declare," 
said the merchant. " Who is to 
be the judge, I should like to 
know, as to what is right and 
wrong?" 

" So far as I am concerned, Mr. 
Brown," replied the young man, 
" I must decide by my own con- 
science. But I do not believe 
that you would ask me to do any- 
thing that was wrong." 

" Have you any recommenda- 
tions ? " persisted Mr. Brown. 

" No, sir. I have never been iu 
business, and so have no one tn 
give a recommendation." 

" Oh, well, ' said the merchant, 
something like a smile coming 
over his sharp features, " I think 
you have some very goiod recom- 
mendations. A young man in 
these days who does not smoke or 
chew, who is willing to acknow- 
ledge that he is obedient to hi.s 
mother, who attends church and 
Sabbath-school, and who says 
that he will be governed by his 
conscience, is, to my thiiuung, 
well recommended." 

So Edward g(ot the place, and I 
fancy will be able to keep it, at 
least until he grows oat of it, 
into a better one. 

Good principles, boys, are the 
best foundation you can have for 
true aaooan tn lild.—Child'i 
Paper. 



c* 



4\ 



Mt. 
the 



chew 



meTchant. | 
ile coming 
B, "I think 
ood recom- 
ig man in 
ot tmoke or 

to acknow- 
lient to his 
chnrch ami 

who says 
led by his 
thinking, 



)cn hare for 

[ita.—Child'i , 



r 

O u 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



103 



MURILLO'S MULATTO. 

NesrW three hundred vears 
ago, in tne city of Seville, lived 
one of the greatest of Spanish 

Sainten — Bartolem^ Kat^ban 
[nrillo. 

Many beauUntl pictures paint- 
ed by this master adorn the 
palace's of the Old World, while a 
lew may be found in the posses- 
sion of wealthy art-Iorers upon 
this side of the water. 

Jn the chnrch of Seville one 
may see four beantifal paintings 
— one, a picture of Christ bound 
to a column, St. Peter in a kneel- 
ing posture at His feet, as if im- 
plormg pardon ; another, a 
superb painting of St. 
Joseph ; one of St. Ann ; and 
a fourth, an exquisite picture 
of the Virgin Mother hold- 
ing the inmnt Jesus in her 
arms. These paintings ar? 
largely sought for and long 
gazed upon by all art-lovers 
who visit Spam, and are par- 
ticularly admired by artists 
for their truthful beauty, 
delicate tints, and natural 
coloring. 

But they are not Muril- 
lo's 

These noble paintings, the 
pride and glory of Seville to- 
day, were conceived and ex- 
ecuted by a mulatto, SebaH- 
tian Gomez, wfio was once 
the slave, then the pupil, 
and in time the peer of his 
illustrious and high-minded 
master. 

The childhood of Sebas- 
tian Gomfez was one of servi- 
tude His duties were 
many and constant He was 
required to grind and miz 
the colors used by the young 
senors, who came at the 
early hour of six in the 
morning to take their lessons 
in drawmg and painting in 
the studio of the great Muril- 
lo; to prepare and stretch 
canvas, run errands, and be 
ready at all times to answer 
the capricious demands of 
these high-bom and imperi- 
ous youths. 

The poor mulatto boy nadi 
however, in addition to a 
generous heart and amiable 
temper, a quick wit, bright 
intellect, and willing hands. 
His memory also was excel- 
lent; he was not without 
judgment, and, what was better 
than all, he was gifted with the 
power of application. 

Intellect, wit, memory, judg- 
ment are all good endowments, 
but none of these will lead to ex- 
cellence if one has not a habit of 
industry and steady application. 

Sebastian Oomdi, at the age of 
fifteen, found himself capable, not 
only of admiring, but also of ap- 
preciating, the work of the pupils 
who wrought in his master's 
studio. 



which they failed to note in their 
studies. 

It chanced, sometimes, that he 
would drop a hint of his thoughts, 
when handing a mahl-stick, or 
moving an easel for some artist 
student. 

" How droll it is that the sly 



other than light comment. 

One day a student who had 
been for a long f ime at work upon 
a " Descent from (he Croa8,"and 
who,bnt the previous day, had ef- 
faced from the canvas an unsatis- 
factory head of the Mater Dolo- 
rosa, was struck dumb with sur- 



young rogue should be so nearly ' prise at finding in its place a love 
correct in his criticisms !" one of \y sketch of the head and face 
the pupils would perhaps remark, | he had so labored to perfect, 
after over-hearing some auiet The miracle— for miracle it seem 
suggestion of the mulatto lad. 



" Aye. One might think the 
slave a connoisseur." would laugh 
another. 

"Truly, it was owing to a cun- 
ning hint of his that my St. An- 



ed — was inquired into, and ex- 
amination proved that this ex- 
quisite head, which Murillo him- 
self owned that ho would have 
been proud to have painted, was 
the secret work of the little slave 




"Other masters leave to pos- 
terity only pictures," exclaimed 
the glad mMter. "I shall be- 
queath to the world a painter ! 
Your name, Sebastian, shall go 
down to posterity only in com- 
pany with mine ; your fame shall 
compete mine ; coming ages, 
when tbey name you, shall call 
you ' MnriUo's mulatto' !" 

He spake truly. Throughout 
Spain to-day that artist who, of 
all the great master's pupils, most 
nearly equals him in all his vari- 
ed excellences, is best known, 
not as Sebastian Gomez alone, 
but as " Sebastian Gomez ; The 
Mulatto of Murillo." 

Murillo had Gom6z made 
a free citizen of Spain.treated 
him as a son, and, when dy- 
ing, he left him a part of his 
estate. Beit Gomez survived 
his illustrious master and 
friend only a few } ears, dy- 
ing, it is said, about the year 
1500.— S<. Nicholas. 



DRAWING LESSON. 



drew's arm was improved in the 
foreshorteniufif " 

" It was Gomez who detected 
first the harshness in my coloring 
of this St Catherine's hands, and 
noted the false curve of the lower 
lip. The mulatto has the true eye 
for color, and, in truth, he seems to 
guess at form as readily as some 
of his betters." 

Such were the remarks 
that often followed the lad's exit, 
as the young senors lightly com- 
mented upon his criticisms 
There came a time, however, 



ft Attimeaheevenfanciedthathetwhen the poor mulatto re- 
could deteo* error. *^i blemiihe.1 ceived from their lordly lips far 

iHt — 



Sebastian. So closely had ho 
listened to his great master's in- 
structions to the pupils, so reten- 
tively stored them in his mind, 
and so industriously worked upon 
them while others slept, — his cus- 
tom being to rise at three in the 
morning and paint until five, — 
that he, the servant of the young 
artists, had become, unconscious- 
ly to himself as to them, an artist, 
also. Murillo,upon discovering the 
genius of G«m^z, was enraptured, 
and declared that the young mu- 
latto ahould be in his aignt no 
longer a slave, but a man, his 
pupil, and an artist. 



LOCUST EATERS. 

The Riff Arabs, when they 
see a swarm of locusts hover- 
ini? in the air and cloud- 
ing the sky, watch thom 
with anxiety, and when 
they descend near their 
habitations they receive 
them with shouts of 
gratitude to God and 
Mohammed, throw them- 
selves on the ground, and 
collect them as fast as pos- 
sible. The locusts, deprived 
of their heads, legs, and 
wings, are well boiled in 
butter, and served up with 
a substance called a'cuzcuz 
The Riff Arabs consider them 
delicious food. Their camels 
also eat them greedilv. The 
Moors use them to this day, 
by first boiling and then fry- 
ing them. The Moorish Jews, 
more provident than their 
Mussulman neighbors, salt 
them and keep them for 
making a dish called dafina, 
which forms the Saturday's 
dinner of the Jewish inhabi- 
tants. This dish is made by 
putting meat, fish, eggs, to- 
matoes, locusts, " in fact, al- 
most anything edible, into a 
jar. placing the latter in an 
oven on Friday night, and 
then taking it out hot on the 
Sabbath." In this manner 
the Hebrew gets a hot dinner 
without committing the sin of 
lighting a fire upon that day. — 
Popular Science Monthly. 

God never accepts a good in- 
clination instead of a good action, 
where that action may be done ; 
nay, so much the contrary, that if 
a good inclination be not second- 
ed by a good action, the want of 
that action is made so much the 
more criminal and inezcns«ble. — 
South. 



He that respects not ia-uot re- 
spected. — Herbtrt. 

\ SI 



i 




HKPRiNTKD STOUlEti. FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



•^ 



Kin. 1.— EDIBT.E MUSSEL. 

THE EDIBLE MUSSEL. 

The common edible muasel, at- 
tracts our special attention on ac- 
count of its value as an article of 
diet and commerce. 

In the accompanying enfi^rav- 
ing, Fig. 1 shows the animal laid 
open to view, the left half of the 
triangular shell having been re- 
moved, while the brim of the 
mantle has been thrown back a 
little to allow a better inspection 
of the inner organs. Both parts 
of the shell are alike in shape and 
size. The hinge or lock unit ii^ 
(hem is located in the smalie'^t 
angle of the triangle formed by 
the shell, and both of the latter 
end at this point in short conical 
elevations. At the opposite end 
there is a small opening in the 
shell and in close proximity runs 
a short fringed tul>e connecting 
with the inner organs of respi- 
ration. 

The peculiar digital form of the 
foot and (he presence of a spin- 
ning gland ur byssus arc charac- 
teristic, and both are undoubtedly 
related to the stationary mode of ; years. Each individual produces 
life of the animal. The long side { millions of oflapring. 



firm in » ahort time. 
Oiicn attached to a rock or 
log '(hey resist the action 
of the stronirest current 
or heariost gale. Fig. 2 is 
a correct representation 
of (ho inuaspl as attached 
(o a iixed object. 

If (ho mussel desires lo 
change i(s residence it 
draws {(self forward ax 
far ns j>ossible, and at- 
taches a few threads as far 
ahead as the foot reaches 
At the same (ime a few of 
the old threads are sever- 
ed. This manipulation is 
repeaied un(il a suitable 
site is reached. Although 
this mode of locomodon is 
extremely slow, the ani- 
mal nevertheless manages 
to (ravel considerable distances 
in this manner. 

The edible mussel inhabits, by 
preference, (hose pordons of the 
shore which are laid dry at low 
tide; and in the neighborhood of 
the mouths of rivers, where (he 
perccnUge of calt in the water is 
low, brosd thick bands may be 
observed covering (hat particular 
section and marking it distinctly. 
Sometimes as many as 2,000 indi- 
viduals have been counted on an 
area of one square foot. 

As above menduned, the ani- 
mal prefers water containing only 
a little salt. It abounds, there- 
fore, especially in those kuropean 
wiiters cut otf partly from free 
communicadons with the Atlan- 
tic, as in the German North Sea, 
the Baltic, and the Adriatic. 
They have also been acclimatized 
in the Caspian Ftea, the water of 
which is not extremely salt. 

In the northern waters the 
edible mussel attains its full size 
in four to five years, and in the 
Mediterranean in one to two 



of the shell being the face side of { 
the mussel. A is the brim of the 
mantle of the latter. On both 
sides of the mouth, F, will be 
noticed the long, narrow, folded 
tentacles, G ; J is the exterior, I 
the interior respiratory muscle ; 



Besides being almost indispen- 
sable as bait for certain fish, they 
are extensively used as an article 
of food. They are largely culti- 
vated in all European waters, in 
so-called "parks." In the North 
Sea these consist of large num- 



E and D are muscles controlling bers of trees, from which the 
the foot, B, under and behind the : smaller branches only have been 
base of which is situated the cut, and which are planted in the 
byssus or spinning gland. From bottom of the sea at such a dis- 
i(s cavity a groove extends along tance from the shore that their 
the lower side of the loot, and upper portion is partially laid 



sk ena 

S ( to t1 



ends at its tip in a transversi' 
cavity containing a small plate, 
perforated by seven small apar- 
tures, used for sucking. 

By means of the foot and the 
bysscan gland the aiii.nal is en- 
abled to spin a net or barb, ' ', 
consisting of numerous thin 
threads, attached firmly to the 
surface of the rock or other ob- 
ject forming its abode. These 
threads are produced from a vis- 
cid liquid substance secreted in 
the byssean gland, which is suck- 
ed up into the apertures of the 
end of the foot and drawn out in- 
to threads, which become quite ^ 



baro at low water. After four or 
five years they are raised, strip- 
ped, and replaced by others. In 
the bay of Kiel, Germany, alone 
about 1,000 of these trees are 
annually planted and about 1,000 
tons of mussels are brought on 
the market. Bad seasons occur, 
however, both wi(h respect to 
quality and quantity, owing to 
various causes. In the Adriatic 
the mussels are raised on ropes 
extended between poles rammed 
into the ground. The ropes are 
raised and stripped once in eigh- 
teen mouths.— Sci'e/i/iVfc Ameri- 
can. 



THE SINNERS TLBA. 

In the days when Napo- 
leon was First Oonral of France, 
a well dressed girl, fourteen 
years of age, presented herself 
alone at the gute of the palace 
By tears and entreadesshe inoved 
the kind-hearted porter to allow 
her (o enter. Passing from one 
room to another, she found her 
way to the hall through whtch 
Napoleon, with his ofiicers, was 
to pass. When he appeared, she 
cast herself at his feet, and in the 
most earnest and moving manner, 
cried, " Pardon, sire, pardon for 
my father !" 

" And who is your father ?" 
asked Napoleon ; " and who are 
you ?■' 

" My name is Lajolia,"Bhe said, 
and with flowing tears added, 
" but sire, my father is doomed 
to die." 

"Ah, young lady," replied 
Napoleon ; I can do nothing for 
you. It is the second time that 
your father has been found guilty 
of treason against (he State." 

" Alas," exclaimed the girl, " I 
know it sire ; but I do not ask for 
justice — I implore pardon. I be- 
seech you, forgive, forgive my 
father ?" 

Napoleon's lips trembled, and 
his eyes filled with tears. After 
a momentary struggle of feeling, 
ho gently took the hand of the 
young maiden and said : 

" Well, my child, for your sake 
I will pardon your father. That 
is enough. Now leave me." 

Keader, know, that, as a sinner 
against God, (he cry from your 
lips must always be, " Not jastice, 
but pardon." 



"I KNOW A THING OR 
TWO." 

" My dear boy," said a father 
to his only son, " you are in bad 
company. The lads with whom 
vou associate indulge in bad 
habits. They drink, smoke, 
swear, play cards, and visit 
theatres. They are not safe com- 
pany for you. I beg you to quit 
their society." 



" Yon needn't be afraid of me, 
father," replied the boy langh- 
lag. " I gnees 1 know a thing or 
two, I know how far to go and 
when to stop," 

The lad lelt hia father's house, 
twirling his cane in his fingers 
and laughing at the old man's 
notions. 

A few years later and that lad, 
grown to manhood, stood at the 
bar of a court, before ajury which 
had just brought in a verdict of 
guilty against him for some crime 
in which he had been concerned. 
Before he was sentenced he ad- 
dressed the court, and said among 
other things : " My downward 
course began with disobedience 
to my parents. I thought I knew 
as much of the world as my 
father did, and I spurned his ad- 
vice ; but as soon aa I turned my 
back on my home, temptation 
came upon me like a drove of 
hyenas, and hurried me to ruin." 

Mark that confession, ye boys 
who are besrinning to be wiser 
than your parents ! Mark it, and 
learn that disobedience is the 
first step on the road to ruin. 
Don't take it\— Christian Intelli- 
Ifencer. 



AN OLD CLOCK'S ADVICE. 

An Englishman says that in his 
great-grand Csther's house, as he 
has heard his mother tell, there 
was a clock on which was the 
following inscription: 

" Hrn I itaitd both d«y andaight. 
To toll itao lima wlih all my mU>>t : 
D I thon *z«inpl« tak* b; ■•, 
Aod Mrro tbj Ood M I Mrro th«a." 

The old clock remained in the 
family for many yearB,bntthe time 
of which it told so faithfully at 
last conquers all things on earth. 
— Oolden Day*. 



Mint a strong character was 
only pulp to begin with ; and but 
for a providential pressure upon 
it it would have remained pulp 
to this day. — Sunday- School 
Timtt. 

As A malarial air may endan- 
ger a good constitution, ao bad 
companions endanger a good 
character. 




no. 2.— XDIBLK KD88XL. 



^ra 



•*^ 



of me, 

ling or 
rn and 



boys 
wiser 
Ic it, and 
) is the 
>o rain. 
Inlelli- 



** onE 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE '« NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



106 



t 



QUEER CONVETANCES. 

Our little onei in the coun- 
try ra*y have •miled to tee a 
chicken mounted on the old 
hen's back while she sat sun* 
uinr herself in the yard 
Perhaps the young thins 
with few feathers sanr a sojt 
" Gree-cree," to tell that he 
enjoyed his position. At 
night he would better like to 
be brooded undtr the mother 
winffs. 

When Biddy got upon her 
feet and went marching on, 
ofi tumbled chick. Now he 
must use his own legs or be 
left behind. Those biU of 
legs may well be weary 
sometimes with long jour- 
neys about the farm. 

One or two species of birds 
ar* known to fly long distances, 
carrying their young on their 
backs. 

Small birds take passage across 
the Mediterranean Sea on the 
backs of large and stronger ones. 
They could not Ay so far. Their 
strength would give out, and thoy 
would drop in the water and 
drown. 

Along the northern shore of the 
sea, in autumn, these little birds 
assemble, to wait the coming of 
cranes from the North, as people 
wait for the train at a railway 
station. 

With the first cold blast the 
cranes arrive, flock after flock. 
They fly low over the cultivatod 
fields. They utter a peculiar cry, 
as of warning or calling. It an- 
swers the same purpose as the 
ringing of the bell when the train 
is about to start. 

The small birds understand it 
so. They get excited. They 
hasten aboard, scrambling for 
places. The first to come get the 
best seats. If the passengers are 
too many, some will have to flit 
back to the hedges till the next 
train. How they chatter good- 
byes, — those who go and those 
who stay. 

No tickets have they, but all 
the same they are conveyed safe- 
ly. Doubtless the great birds 
like this warm covering for their 
backs. In this way the small 
birds pay their fare. And it is 




(he finest palaces in ancient 
Rome were soon covered 
with soot and lilih. It was 
impossible to korp them 
clean. The mo.iaics and the 
paintings on the walls soon 
became d' 'ro'.ored. In the 
oastleN of England and 
France it was still worse. 
Here ihr huffe fire biased in 
the c-'ntre of the great hall. 
The smoke covered the roof 
with black drapery, and the 
sb ge knights and squires 
were forced either to endure 
the cold, or to live and 
breathe in an air that was 
dangerous to siaht, health, 
and life itselfT — Harper' i 
Young People. 



HIS- 



CHIMNBTS: THEIR 

TORY. 
Chimneys seem so .natural to us 
that wo forget that there was a time 
when they were unknown. They 
were invented about the same 
time with clocks and watches. 
No house in ancient Rome or 
Athens had them. The Oreeks 
and Ilomans heated their rooms 
with hot coals in a dish, or by 
flues underneath the floor. The 
smoke passed out by the doors 
and windows. You could always 
tell when a Roman was about to 
give a dinner party by the clouds 
of smoke that came out of the 
Icitchen windows. It must have 
been very unpleasant for the 
cooks, who had to do their work 
in the midst of it. 

The tall chimneys that rise 
over the tops of the houses in New 
York and Brooklyn, pouring out 
their clouds of smoke, would have 
seemed miracles to our ancestors 
a few centuries ago. Even the 
pipe of a steamer or the chimney 
of a kerosene lamp they would 
have thought wonderful. In 
England, in the time of the Con- 
queror (1066;, the fire was built 
on a clay floor or in a hole or pit 
in the largest room of the house. 
The smoke passed through an 
opening in the roof. At night a 
cover wai placed over the coals 
Everybody was by law obliged 
to cover up his fire when the bell 
rang at a certain hour. In 
these last who must be out in the j French this was cuuvre-feu, and 
wet if it storms. | hence the word " curfew" bell. 

The little passengers arc of dif- , Chimneys began to be used 
ferent species, like Americans, I generally in England in the be- 
Irish, Germans, and Chinese | ginning of the reign of Elizabeth. 
travelling together in cars or i No one Knows who invented them, 
steamships. Their journey takes or when they first came into use. 
them through the air, high above We find them first in Italy. 
the wide sweep of waters. They! In Venice they seem to have 

' been not uncommon as earlv as 
had long 



are close companions on tSe way. 

By and by they reach the beau- 
tiful South country. There they 
build nests and sing sweetly, as 
they build here and sing for us in 
our happy summer-time. 

Indeed, God cares for the spar- 
rows. — Our LiUle Ones. 



Dost thou love life ? then do 
not squander time, for that is the 
•tuff life is made of.— Franklin 



1847. In 1368 they 
been in use at Padua. They 
were at first built very wide and 
large, so that they could be easily 
cleaned. The wide chimney- 
pteces of some of our older houses 
are very curious. 

But as time passed on chim- 
neys were made taller, narrow, 
and often crooked. When they 
had to be cleaned it was custom- 
ary to send boys up into them to 



remove the soot and ashes. It 
was then that the saddest stories 
were told of the little sweeps 
who were forced to climb up the 
narrow flues, and come down 
torn, bleeding, and covered with 
soot. These poor creatures, who 
were often not more than seven 
or eight years old, were some- 
times suflocated in the foul chim- 
nevs they attempted to clean. 
When they reached the top they 
were expected to look out and 
give a loud shout. No boy 
would over become a chimney- 
swe jp from choice, and they were 
often driven to climb the chim- 
neys by the fear of a whipping. 
The crueltv of the master-sweeps 
was fearful. 

The little chimney-sweeper 
has passed away. His place is 
taken by a patent broom and a 
colored operator. Chimneys are 
built two and three hundred feet 
high. In Birmingham, England, 
one fell down recently on a large 
factory, killing and wounding 
thirty or forty workmen and 
Others. The tallest chimney in 
New York is that of the Steam- 
heating Company. 

The chimney is one of the 
most useful of inventions. We 
can not well understand how the 
Oreeks and Romans did without 
it. But with us it is everywhere. 
Our lamps would never burn 
without a chimney ; our steam- 
boats and engines would be help- 
less without it; OUT factories are 
moved by it; it warms our houses, 
and gives employment to thou- 
sands of people. 

In the days before chimneys 
were invented men lived in 
clouds of smoke. The walls of 



THE SWEARER REPROVED 
BY A CHILD. 

Some little children were sit* 
ting one day on the steps of a 
door singing, as they often do, 
some of their favorite hymns. 
They were suddenly surprised by 
a half-drunken man, who came 
lip to them, and, uttering an oath, 
said — 

" Does your master teach yon 
nothing but singing those foolish 
hymns?" 

" Yes," said a sharp little fel- 
low, about six years of age; "he 
tells us it is wicked to swear." 

The poor worthless man seem* 
ed ashamed of his conduct, and 
passed on without further remark. 



THE RESTORED TEETH. 

In the Metsenirer of Nov. 1st, 
it will be remembered, were giv- 
en a number of sacred pictures 
ofiered by the Japanese to their 

?;uds in gratitude for their de- 
iverance from some evil. One 
of these pictures with its story 
was crowded out of that number 
and we give it now. 

This woman and her husband 
have suffered terribly from tooth- 
ache. The softest foodmade them 
jump with pain. But, thanks to 
their gods, they have not only re* 
covered, but are so strong in their 
months that they can hold between 
the teeth, without a pang, a four- 
prongedanchorofaJapanesejunk. 
Why the husband has painted 
only his wife with this trial in her 
mouth we cannot tell. 







Bk not simply good — be good 
for something. — Thureau. 



THE RBSTORED TEETH. 



m^^ 



J 



r 



106 



REPRINTED STORIES, PROM THE '< NORTHERN M^ENOER/;^ 



FROM A PASTOR'S NOTE- 
BOOK. 

BY THK niV. J B. TAYLOR. 

One eveoinff, Mine yeart «go, 
on a dark and atormy night, I 
waa summoned to visit a neigh- 
bor who was Bappo*ed to be near 
hia end. 1 soon made my way to 
the deaignated house, and iound 
the laom tilled with friends, stand- 
ing around the dying man. The 
physician had done all in his 
power to relieve the patient, and 
said that he could not last till day. 

1 took the sntferer's hand and 
Talked to him concerning his hopes 
ior eternity. He said that though 
not connected with any church, 
he waa not afraid to die ; that he 
had lately been converted, and 
was trusting in Christ. I con- 
gratulated him on being able to 
exercise such calm reliance in the 
near prospect of death, and urged 
on the bystanders the importance 
of preparation for a dying hoar. 
After reading some appropriate 
passages irom the Bible and offer- 
ing prayer. I left the room, not 
expecting to see the young man 
alive the next mominf. 

That night an nmooked 
for and wonderful change 
took place, and the following 
morning the man was not 
only living but improving. 
He rapidly recovered, and in 
a short time was able to leave 
the sick-room. A few days 
after I had an opportunity 
for a quiet talk with him 
Imagine my surprise when, 
on my having alluded to that 
memorable night in his his- 
tory, he expressed himself as 
utterly ignorant of anything 
that occurred on the occasion. 
He said that he bad no re- 
membrance of my visit ; that 
he had never knowingly pro- 
fessed conversion, and that 
had he died, he would have 
had no well-grounded hope 
for eternity. 

Reader, the explanation is 
that (he sick man's mind 
wandered. He was " out of 
his head," and unconscious of all 
that occurred at the time. And 
yet had he passed away, I should 
perhaps have written to absent 
relatives of their dear one's trium- 
phant death, and friends would 
have thought of him as " safe in 
heaven." 

I do not mean to say that one 
may not be converted on a death- 
bed. God forbid that I should 
limit the G^race of God and the 
efficacy of atoning blood when 
applied by the Holy Spirit, I know 
that whenever a sinner realizes 
that he has no help in himself and 
no refuge of his own, and looks 
to what Jesus has done and suf- 
fered, he will be saved. But oh, 
the gtiilt, the folly, the danger of 
leaving. 

•' To the mercies of a moment 
The vaat concerns of an immortal stkte." 

And what if that "moment," 
that last hour or day, should be 
one when the brain is all dis- 
ordered !—///. Chris. Weekly. 

•M 



HOME-MADB TELEPHONES. 

Please tell me in your question 
coluon how I can make a boy's 
telephone, oaing wire or string aa 
the conductor of sound. As I 
would like to run the wire or 
string at anglea, please tell me 
what I ran put for supports for 
wire or string at the angles so as 
not to interfere with the passing 
sound. Please give full partiou- 
lara in your next paper. 

And oblige. A Boy. 

" Full partioolars" would take 
a great deal of room, but wa glad- 
ly do a littl* more than answer 
the specific quMtion. A bright 
young lad of our acquaintanee 
rigged up a telephone which car- 
ried aound snooessfuily adiatauce 
of some sixty icet. He took a 
common cigar box, bored a half 
inch hole in either end, and then 
sawed the box in two in the 
middle. He raised the window 
in his room suificiently to allow 
the half box to rest between the 
sash and the frame, and fitted a 
board to fill the rest of the open- 
ing — the open end of the box 



other half of the box was put in 
the Mune way at the other end of 
the line. Through the half-inoh 
holea a fine wire waa stretched 
tight and held in plaee by being 
tied around a nail which lay 
aoroas the hole. It waa, you see, 
a mutual benefit affair ; the nail 
kept the wire in plaee and the 
wire kept the nail in place. There 
were no anglea to be overcome, 
bat my young friend thinks he 
could arrange it so that angles 
would not materially interfere. 
He would, aa we understand it, 
iaatan a loop of stilT Wire to the 
post or corner of the building 
making the angle, and pass the 
telephone wire through the loop 
in such a way as to pall from the 
post and not touch it. 

The same lad describes to me 
a telephone which is in operation 
from his father's house to his 
store ; a distance of some 875 feet. 
At first they used one which cost 
about five dollars, but it was too 
small. They tried a larger one, 
which they have again replaced 
by one still larger. In this case 



being inside the window. The , there are angles to be overcome 



^ 




BRUCE AND THE SPIDKK. 



King Brace of Scotland flung liimaelf dovrn. 

In a lonely mood to think ; 
True, he watt a monarch, and wore a crown. 

But his heart waa beginning to sink. 

For ha had been trying to do a great deed. 

To make his people glad ; 
He had tried and tried, but could not aucceed. 

And ao he became quite aad. 

He flung himself down in low despair. 

Ah grieved as mau could be ; 
And after a while he pondered there, — 

" I'll vSie it up," cried he. 

Now just at the moment a spider dropped, 

With its silken cobweb clue; 
And the king in the midst of his thinkin); 
stopped 

To see what the spider would do. 

Twas a longaraT up to the ceiling dome, 

Aud it hung bjr a rope so fine. 
That how It would get to its cobweb home 

King Bruce could not dirine. 

It soon began to cling and crawl 
Straight up with strong endeavor ; 

But d ^wn it came with a slipping sprawl, 
Ak near to the ground as ever. 

Up, up it ran, nor a second did stay, 

To make the least complaint. 
Till it fell still lowor ; and there it lay 

A little diuy and taint 

Its head grew steady — again it went, 
And travelled a halt yard higher ; 



Twas a delicate thread it had 
And a road where its feet would tire. 



ad to tread. 
L wouU 



A|;ain it fell, and swung below ; 

Btit up it quickly mounted, 
TiEl up and down, now fast, now alow. 

Six uravo attempts were counted. 

"Sure," said the king, "that foolish thiug 

Will strive no more to climb. 
When it toils so hard to reach and cling, 

And tumbles every time." 

But up the insect went once more ; 

Ah ine ! 'tis nn anxious minute ; 
He's only a foot from his cobweb door ; 

Oh, say, will ho lose or win it T 

Steadily, steadily, inch by inch. 

Higher and higlier he got. 
And a bold little run at the very last pinch 

Put him into the wisbed-for spot. 

"Bravo I bravo ! " the king cried out ; 

" All honor to those who try : 
The spider up there defied despair !— 

He conquered, and why should not It" 

And Bruce of Seotland braced his mind, 

And goasins tell the tale, 
That he tried once more as he tried before. 

And this time Le did not fail. 

Pay goodly head, all ye who read. 
Ana beware of saying, " I can't;" 

'Tie a eowardty wora, and aptto laad 
To idlenesa, folly and want 

— CMUFs Companion 



although the path for the wire fa 
made as straight as poaaible. The 
only insulators are loops; in the 
case of the small telephone the top 
is made of cord, in the one they 
now use, of slitt' vi ire. The wire 
loop is bent to form a sort of catch, 
like thst in a lady's brooch, so thai 
(he loop may be opened and the 
wire passed in without (hn trouble 
of drawing it through from either 
end. This loop of stiff wire is 
fB8(enod to a pole, or other sup- 
port, by fine wire. So far an ap- 
pears, the effort is to keep the wire 
stre(ched taut, and prevented 
from lying loosely against any- 
thing. — Chriilian tfniom. 

THE THIMBLE. 

The name of this little initra- 
ment is said to have been derived 
(Vom "thumbell," being at the 
first thumble, and afterward 
thimble. 

It is a Dutch invention and waa 
first brought to England about 
the year 1606, by John Lofting. 
Formerly iron and brass were 
used, but lately steel, silver and 
gold have taken their places. In 
the ordinary manufacture, 
thin plates of metal are in- 
troduced into a die, and 
punched into shape. 

In Paris, gold thimbles arc 
manufactured to a large ex- 
tent. Thin sheets of sheet- 
iron are cut into dies of about 
two inches diameter These 
being heated red-hot, are 
struck with a punch into a 
number of holes, gradually 
increasing in depth to give 
them proper shape. 

The thimble is then trim- 
med, polished and indented 
around its outer surface with 
a number of little holes, by 
means of a small wheel. It 
is then converted into steel 
by the cementation process, 
tempered, scoured and 
brought to a blue color. 

A thin sheet of gold is then 
introduced into the interior 
and fastened to the steel by 
means of a polished steel mandril. 
Gold leaf is then applied to the 
outside, and attached to it by 
pressure, the edge being fastened 
to a small groove made to receive 
them. The thimble is then ready 
for use. — Set. * 

m 

Do NOT Wade fab out into the 
dangerous sea of this world's 
comfort. Take what the good 
God provides you, but say of it, 
" It passeth away ; ior indeed it 
is but a temporary supply for a 
temporary need." Never suffer 
your goods to become your Ood. 
— Spurgeon. 

If an Irreqular Teacher 
should read this, listen while I 
whisper to you. You would do 
the greatest possible good to your 
class by either being regular or 
resigning your place at once. You 
will also pleaso your superinten- 
dent by such an act, for he is 
hoping you will do one or (he 
other without any hint from him. 



«I4» 



r*» 



KKI'HINTKI) STORIhX FROM TIIK •• NORTH KRN MliSSENOBR.' 



I'»7 



THB LOTUS. 



The ■ingnUr beantjr uid iu» 
falneM of th« Itrge wtt«r-lily, 
called the Lotna, hare in all a^fea 
attracted to it an extraordinary 
intereat ; and, combined wi*h the 
lablea of the Bffptiana, tL« Hin- 
doo* and the Ghinoae hare ex- 
alted it in the Baat to honors 
aluMMt divine. 

It waa held aacred by the 
ancient Egyptian*. Repreaenta- 
tiona of it were acnlptared npon 
(he monamenta ; tho aun waa aetin 
riaing from it, and Osirit and 
other deitieii aat npon it, or were 
crowned with it. 

In India and Oeylon the flower 
ia held verv aacred. Whun 

Srinces enter the idol temple they 
are this flower in their hands, 
and when the priests sit in silent 
thought it is placed in a rase be 
fore them. It is related that t 
native, npon entering Sir William 
Jonea' study, seeing flowers of 
thia beautiful plant lying upon 
the table for examination, pros- 
trated himself before them. 

The Sanscrit name of the flower 
is Padma, and by that name it is 
uaually known in Buddhist 
countries. The words Om jVaiii 
Padma houm ! " Oh, .Towel 
(Precious One) in (on) the Lotus, 
Amen ! " form the most I'recinont 
prayer of many millions of man- 
kind " These six syllables 
which the Lamas (Buddhist 
priests) repeat," ^ys Kooppen, in 
his work on Lamaism, " form, of 
all the prayers of the earth, the 
piayer that is most frequently 
repeated, written and printed. 
They form the only prayer which 
the common Mongols and Tibet- 
ans know; they are the first 
words that the stammering child 
learns, and are the last sighs of 
the dying. The traveller mur- 
murs them upon his journey ; the 
herdsman by his flock ; the wife 
in her daily work ; the monk in 
his devotions. One meets with 
them everywhere, wherever 
Lamaism has established itself — 
on flrtgs, rocks, trees, walls, stone 
monuments, utensils, strips of 
paper and so forth. 

The Buddhists of China and 
Japan also greatly venerate the 
flower, and associate it with all 
the leading deities, who are re- 
presented in the images in the 
temples as seated upon it. 

The power attributed to the 
Lotus is in nothing more marked 
than in its imagined helpfulness 
to the souls of the deceased. It 
figures in Ohineso paintings of 
the punishment of the dead. In 
these pictures the deceased are 
represented as suffering tortures 
of various kinds. By their 
children, however, such valuable 
gifts are offered as to induce 
Kwanyin, the Ghoddess of Mercy, 
to appear npon the scene, and 
and cast the Lotos npon the 
miserable sufierers. This at once 
ends their punishment, and the 
evil spirits are nnable to torment 
^ their victims any more ! Such 
* ' pictures are shown by the Bud- 

m^m 



dhist priests to more the compas- 
sion, terrify the consciences, and 
open the purses of the friends of 
the dead. 

Bnt, notwithstanding the saored- 
neasin whicu the Lotus is held, 
and the fablea and superstitions 
which are associated with it, many 
of (he Chinese largely cultivate 
it. The fragrant bfossoms roach 
a diameter of ten inches, and Und 
a ready sale. The seeds or beans 
are eaten as they are, or are 
ground and made into cakes; the 
fleshy stems supply a popular 
nourishing vegetable; while the 
fibres of the leaf stalks serve for 
lamp-wicks. 

The ancient Bgyptians alao 
largely cnltivated the Lotus on 
the waters of the Nile, the beans, 
the stems and even the roots 
being extensively used for food. 
The seeds of the plant were en- 
closed in hulls of clay or mud, 
mixed with chopped straw, and 
caat into the Nile. In due season 
the beautiful potala appeared. 



course ; you wouldn't thmk of tell- 
ing snything else ? " 

" No, I onlr thought I'd keep 
it to myself, if I can. I'm afraid 
it may stand in my way." 

" It never atanda in one'a war 
to do right, James, even though 
it mayaeem to sometime* " 

He found it harder than he had 
expected to get a new situation. 
He walked and inquired till be 
felt almost discouraged, till one 
day something really seemed to 
be waiting for him. A young- 
looking man in a clean, bright 
store, newly started, was in want 
of an aasiataat. Things looked 
very attractive, so neat and dainty 
thatJames, fearing that ahoy who 
had a record for carelessness 
might not be wanted there, felt 
sorely tempted to conceal the 
truth. It waa a long diatance 
from the place from which he had 
been dismissed, and the chances 
weri' slight of a new employer 
over hearing the truth. But he 
thonght better of it, and frankly 




shortly followed by buds, flowers I 
and seeds. From which practice ] 
the inspired writer enforces the 
duty of sclt'-deiiying zenl and 
faith : " Cast thy bread npon the 
waters for thou shalt hud it after 
many days." 



TRUTH. 

" Lost your situation ? How 
did it happen, my boy ? " 

" Well, mother, you'll say it 
was all my old carelessness, I 
suppose. I was dusting the 
shelves in the store, and, trying 
to hurry up matters, sent a lot of 
fruit-jars smashing to the floor. 
Mr. Barton scolded, and said he 
wouldn't stand my blundering 
ways any longer, so I packed up 
and left." 

His mother looked troubled. 

" Don't mind, mother I can get 
another situation soon, I know. 
But what shall I say if they ask 
me whv I left the last one." 

"Tell the truth, James, of 



told exactly the circumstances 
which had led to his seeking the 
situation. 

" I must say I hare a great 
preference for having neat- 
handed, careful people about me," 
said the man, good-humoredly, 
" but I have heard that those who 
know their faults and are honest 
enough to own them, are likely to 
mend them. Perhaps the very 
Inok you have had may help you 
to learn to be more carelul." 

" Indeed, sir, I will try very 
hard," said James earnestly. 

" Well I always think a boy 
who tells the truth, even though 
it may seem to go against him, — 
Oood morning, uncle. Gome in, 
sir." 

He spoke to an elderly man who 
was entering the door, and James 
turning, found himself face to face 
with his late employer. 

"Oh, ho!" he said, looking at 
the boy, "are yon hiring this 
young chap, Fred ? " 

"I naven't yet, sir." 




" Well, I guesa you might trr 
him. If you can only," he addea, 
langhing, " keep him from spilling 
all the wet goods and amaahing 
all the dry onea yon II find him 
reliable in everything elae. If 
von find you don't like him I'll 
be willmg to give him another 
trial myaelf " 

•If you think that well of 
him," aaid the yonnger man, 
" I think I shall keep him ny. 
self." ' 

" Oh, mother, said James, going 
home after having made an 
agreement with his new employer, 
alter such a recommendation from 
his old one, " you were right, as 
yon always are. It waa telling 
the truth that got it for me. What 
if Mr. Barton had come in there 
just after I had been telling 
something that wasn't exactly 
so!" ' 

"Truth is alwaya beat,', aaid 
his mother, "'the truth, the 
whole truth, and nothing bnt the 
truth.' "— Standard. 



"FOR MB." 



Little Carrie was a heathen 
child, about ten years old, with 
bright black eyes, dark skin, curly 
brown hair, and slight, neat 
form. 

A little while after she began 
to go to school, the teacher 
noticed one day that she looked 
less happy than usual 

" My dear," she said, " why do 
you look so sad ? " 

'- Because I am thinking." 

" What arc you thinking 
about?" 

" O teacher ! I do not know 
whether Jesus loveame or not." 

" Carrie, did Jesus ever invite 
little children to come to him ? ' 

The little girl repeated the 
verse, "Suffer little children to 
come unto me,'' which she learned 
at school. 

" Well, who is that for ? " 

In an instant Carrie clapped 
her hands, and said : " It is not 
for you, teacher, is it? for you 
are not a child. No, it is for me ! 
for me ! " 

From that hour Carrie knew 
that Jesus loved her; and she 
loved him back again with all 
her heart. 

Now, if the heathen children 
learn that Jesus loves them, and 
believe his kind words as soon as 
1hey hear them, ought not we, 
who hear so much about the dear 
Saviour, to believe and love him 
too? Every one of us ought to 
say, " It is for me ! it is for me ! 
and throw ourselves into the 
arms of the loving Saviour. — 
Morning Light. 



Pbatbb will make a man cease 
from sin, or sin will entice a man 
to cease from prayer. — Bunyan. 

People look at your six days 
in the week to see what you 
mean on the seventh. 



a 



J" J08 



REPRINTKI) STORIES. FROM TIIK •• NORTHERN M l-JWKNOER." 



THE OIANT IIliUON. 

Thi) ffitMt heron ( ArdeAOoliath 
((igantodvit «nil nohiliai in louiid 
in thn central anil aotithern part 
of Afrios. The foathi r» of tho 
np|H>r part of the hea«l anil tho 
tnii upon lht> top of tho hna<l, al- 
to the toathrra on the cnrvo of 
the winf(H and tho anJer part of 
the body with the oioeption of 
the white throat, are oheatnnt 
brown. Thw remaining uppor part 
of the body is aah gray. The looan 
hanging feathera on the fore part of 
the neck are white on the outaide, 
and black iuaide. The eye ia rrl- 
low, tho npper part of the bill ia 
black, the ander part ia greeniah 
yellow at the point, and violel 
color at the root. The foot ia 
black, The length of tkia heron 
ia about one hundred and thirty- 
aix centimetera, the broadth 
one hundred eighty aix ; the 
length of tho tail twenty- 
one oen timet rea, and the 
length of the winga fifty- 
Hve, 

This bird is found near 
ahallow water. It visits 
amall ponda in thu fields, 
water ditchea, and puola, 
and in winter seeks shal- 
low bays of the aea an<l 
waters about thu (^oaal, 
especially whoro them is a 
forest in the vicinity, or at 
leatt high trees, where itia 
accustomed to rest. 

These giant herons arc 
more timid than any other 
of tho species. Every clap 
of thunder territies them, 
and they are afraid of men 
even when seen at a dis- 
tancfj. It is a very difli- 
cult matter to surprise an 
old heron, for it seems con- 
scious of every danger, and 
immediately takes to Hight 
if frightened. They have 
a shrill voice. 

Their food consists of 
fishes, frogs, serpents, 
especially adders, young 
swamp and water birds, 
mice, insects that live in 
tho water, and earth worms. 
Naumanu says that when a 
heron reaches tho pond, if 
it does not suspect thu presence 
of an observer, it generally goes 
immediately into tho shallow 
water and begins to iish. Bend- 
ing its neck, and lowering its bill, 
ittastens a keen look upon tho 
water, and moves softly and with 
measured stride,><, hut with such 
cautions 8tep.s that not tho least 
splashing sound ia heard. It cir- 
cles rounil tho whole poml in this 
way, seeking food, throwing its 
neck quickly lor ward, tlien sud- 
denly drawing it t)ack. holding a 
fish tirmly in its bill. II the Iish 
aimed at i.s in deep water, it 
moves with it.s wholo neck 
under the water, and in order to 
preserve its balance opens its 
wings a little. It seldom misses 
its aim. 

These herons form settlements, 
the nests sometimes numbering a 



with hair, wool, or feathera. Thej 
lay three or four egga, whi 



hundred In April the old herona 
make their appearance at the 
neaip, repair Ibem if neceaaary, 
anil then begin to lay. They are 
about n metre broati, ahallow, and 
simply put together of aticka, 
twigs, reeda, or atraw. They are 
lined in a very alovenly maimer 

ich 
average sixty roillimelrea in 
length and forty-three thick. The 
ahells are amooth, the color ia 
green. After three weeka of 
brooding the young birda are 
hatched . They a re hel pleta, aw k- 
ward, ugly oreaturea. They 
aeem to be conatantly hungry and 
eat an incredible amount. They 
remain in the neat about four 
weeka. After leaving tho neat 
tha paranU car* lor them for • 



A PEATHRRED SlIBniBRD. 

In Sonlh Americi thero ia a 
very beautiful bird railed the 
agami, or tho gulden-breaated 
trumpeter. It ia about aa large 
111 the body aa one of our com- 
mon barn-yanl fowl, but aa it haa 
longer lege and a longer neck it 
aeema much larger. Us general 
color ia black, but tho plumage on 
^o breast ia beautiful beyond 
deacription, being what might be 
called irideacent, changing, aa it 
continually doea, from a ateel-blne 
to a led-gold, and glittering with 
a metallic luatr*. 

In its wild state tha agami ia 
not peculiar for anything but ita 
beauty, ita extraordinary cry, 
which haa given it tha name of 
trumpeter, and for an odd habit 
of leaping with comical antica in- 



"1 




faithful guardian drirnaita charge 
homo again. 

Soroelimes it ia giren tha oara 
of a tlo<'k of aheep; and, though 
It matr seem too puny for auch a 
taak. It ia in iact quite equal to it. 
Tha misguided aheep that triea lo 
tritlewilri anagaroiaoon haacanae 
torepenttheeipenmeiit; for, with 
aawiflnesa unrivalled by any dog 
tha feathered ahephard darta after 
the rnnaway,and with winga und 
beak drives it back to its place.not 
forgetting to impreaa npon the 
offender a aenae of ita arrora by 
packs with iia beak. 

Should a dog think to take ad- 
rantage of the aeeroingly un- 
guarded condition of tha aheep 
and approach them with evil de 
aigna, the agami makes no hraita- 
tion about ruahingat him and giv- 
ing combat. And it muat ba 
a good dog that will over- 
come the brave bird. In- 
deed, moat dogi are to 
awed by tha fierce onaet ol 
tha agami, accompanied by 
itaatrange cries, that they 
incontinently turn about 
and run, fortunate if they 
eacape unwounded from 
the indignant creature. 

At mealtimea tt walka 
into the houae and takea its 
poaition near ita master, 
aeeming to ask for hia ca 
resses. It will not permit 
the presence of any otbei 
pet in the room, and even 
reaenta the intrusion of any 
servants not belonging 
there, driving out all othere 
before it will be contented. 
Like a well-bred dog, it 
does not clamor for food, 
but waits with dignity un- 
til its wants have been sat- 
isfied. — From " BfHtvolent 
Birdt," by Will Woodman, 
in St. Nicholas. 



TRIMMING 
PHANTS 



THE ELE- 
FEET. 



O'.ANT HKBON. — (0«e-/f/M Natural 



II ^ 



few days and then leave (hem to 
their fate. Old and young then 
disperse, and the settlement is 
deserted. 

Baldsmus says that tho fe^r 
which these borons have oi <«;i 
birds of prey, even crows and 
magpies, is really laughable. 
The robbers appear to know this, 
for they plunder the heron settle- 
ments with shameless impudence, 
and expect no greater revenge 
than a few feeble blows of the 
wings. 

They are easily raised in 
captivity, their food consisting of 
liab, frogs, and mice. — From 
Bfehm's Animal Life. 



A Wise Man will make more 
opportunities than he finds. — 
Lord Bacon. 



to the air, apparently for its own 
amusement. When tamed, how- 
ever, — and it soon learns to aban- 
don its wild ways, — it usually 
conceives a violent attachment for 
its muster, and, though very jeal- 
ous of his aflection, endeavors to 
please him by a solicitude for tho 
well-being of all that belongs to 
him, which may fairly be termed 
benevolence. 

It is never shut up at night as 
the other fowl are, but, with a 
well-deserved liberty, is permitted 
to take up its quaiters where it 
pleases. In the morning, it 
drives the ducks towaterand the 
chickens to their feeding-ground ; 
and if any should presume to 
wander, they are quickly brought 
to a senSo of duty by a aharp re- 
minder from the atrocg beek of 
the vigilant agami. At night, the 



The whole of a day was 
spent recently at Bridge- 
port, Conn., by five men in 
trimming tho feet of two 
elephants. The operation 
is performed, the New Haven 
Register says, once on tha road, 
once in the fall, and again in tho 
spring. The sole of an elephant's 
foot ia covered with a thick, horny 
fcubstance, which as it grows 
thicker, tends to contract and 
crack, often laming tho animal. 
At the timo of trimming the ele- 
phant stands on three legs and 
places the foot to be operated upon 
across a large tub. Two men 
hold the leg down, and one stands 
at the animal's head to prevent 
him from turning. Then with a 
two-foot drawing knife one man 
shaves off great pieces of bono 
from the sole of the foot. The ele- 
phant holds the foot high of his 
own accord, and after the opera- 
tion he flourishes his trunk, 
trumpets, and expresses sincere 
ihhnkt.— Scientific American. 



^t49liN9 



r 



RRPRINTKD STORIKS. KKOM TIIK "NOHTIIKHN MKSSKNOKR. 



day WM 
Bridge- 
re men in 
of two 
operation 
w Haven 
the road, 
ain in tho 
elephant's 
lick, horny 

it groWB 

itract and 

ho animal. 

ng the ele- 

legs and 

rated npon 

Two men 
lone8tand» 
to prevent 
Then with a 
fe one man 
|;es of bono 
ot. The ele- 

high of his 
T the opera- 

his trunk, 
sses sineore 
utri'-an. 



RAIf.VVALONA. 



Ranavninnn wat only a tiiui k 
woman hum and hrud an iilolu- 
tcr, quutMi ot a h>'«thi<n rai-« dc- 
■itised and invalidud hy ii (('''at 
( hristian nation ssa pi<o|ilo worth 
of no n spect, |MMHH>«iijn)( mi ri)(hlK. 
Itut Uanavalon.t wiu i-vcry iiuli 
asuvvroitfii, Meaturod by h'-rop- 
iiortaniiips, hy hi>r stoailriuit ud- 
huranco to tho right, hy whul iihi> 
*cconipliiih<>tl for her peopitt hihI 
for Christianity and civilixitlioii, 
thia black sovereign is worthy to 
ba raiikiitl amongst tho good and 
trua of tho world's host w)iiti> 
queens, hot hor name h« enroll- 
ed with those wountn of royal 
IKwition for whom Ihn worM has 
an honorahlu plaoo in its history. 
Ranavalona camo tho throne of 
Madagascar in 186H. Ilor coun- 
try waa jnat emerging from the 
moat cruel |>ersecution Christians 
have sulTorod since the 
days of Nero, ('hristian- 
ity had been intrmlucod 
under the reign of Rada- 
ma,who began tho unifica- 
tion of tho kingdom. Ho 
welcomed tho Christian 
teachers and nxliortod his 
people to rocoivo their in- 
struction. It will hol[i 
you, ho mid, it will holp 
the country iind it will 
help KaiUniii Upon Ut\- 
dania's doitth in 182'^ his 
senior wife, UiiiiiiVHloiia I 
seized the throne, and lie- 
oame the " Hloo<ly Miiry" 
of tho Malagiwy. A oou- 
sidornhle number of con- 
rertN had been won, mid 
it became ItanaviiloiiVs 
chief object to restore 
heathenism in its grossest 
form and destroy utterly 
tho last vestii^es of Chris- 
tianity. Kdict after edict 
went forth against tho 
followers of tho mission- 
aries. They wore tortur- 
ml, thoy were slain with 
tho sword, thoy were im- 
paled, thoy were thrown 
headlong down a preci- 
pice, thoy were burned. 
Thoy pori8ho<l liy hnn- 
ilro<U and thoiwancls, giv- 
ing an bignal proof of their 
faitlifuln^Bs as can bo 
found in Fox's " Book of tho Mar- 
tyrs." After tho death of tho 
wickoil queen, in 1861, there 
camo n cessation of persoeution, 
an<l some degree of tolerntiou was 
enjoyed until tho coronation of 
Kanavalona 11. in 18*J'5, Slu' 
was a worthy daughter of a .lezo- 
M mother. Sho had esix>u»od 
tho cause if not tho faith of the 
Christians, and was crowned 
with Christian services by a 
uativo minister. Her address on 
that occasion showed that sho had 
been a close student of the Bible, 
which had been widely scattered 
before tho potsecntions. Tho 
next year sho was married to her 
\>rime minister, and both were 
.''ublicly baptized. 
Ranavalona not only oecame 



tho friend an>l prnmnior of ChrH 
tianily ; sho raustxl sjl tho niate 
ldol>, it It RUggoslioii (if II pnlillc 
meoling III the raplliil, to ho burn- 
ed . yet sli,) did not III turn be 
conio a persorutor of tli,< h< ulhen 
Under her boniifii rule all her 

KUbjerts Were protoiled, and 
civiliiialloii ailvsiK'i'd willi rspid 
ttrid 
lilthl 



tho Kr»n< li Admiral bombsnlefl 
Tamstivo Ihn (.jiiHon waa urifmt 
lo expel all his counlryrooii Iroin 
her riipilnl Her reply was : 

"Wo are (/'hristiani, an<l must 
romein)H<r at th's trying tune that 
wo arosoto actax Itocuun s Cliris- 
liHiis. Thoy giiYo our trieiuN nt 
Maianira an hour Wo will give 



sjanira an hour 
She bi'itaii Hi oiieo |o ihein live days, and not a liiiir of 
II tho burdennol'ihe I [ilo ibeir heads, rumew bur, is to bo 



The (i|iprosslvi> lealiire* of Ihe'hsrined 

inililiiry sjrstoui were removed. I When then |>anic-slrirkon 
ollieer-t Wi-re deprived of llieir fdreitfiiers loll Antaiiannrivo, tlie 
foudalory rights ; iho rovenuo, or natives could nut bo induoeit to 



rather Iho system of public plun-' 
dor, was .-olormud , the im|iorta- 
lion of Ho«ambi({uo slaves was 
prohibited ; domestic tiavory 
waa humauiied, the breaking up 
of families being prohibited ; tho 
manufaclurn and sale of intoxicsl- 
ing liciuors were forbidden : tho 
peacefnl arts were fostered, and 
education was promoted in every 



?;o wit 
rsr of 



with them to Tamalive for 
f baing delainiMl as prison- 
ers by the invaders. Under 
thaao circumstances the Qneon 
furnished bearers and gave the 
French safu conduct. 

What a contrast is presented 
by this woman only half m gene- 
r.ition removed from heathenism 
and the representatives of the 



7^^ 




MABOABET, MOTITER OF MAKTIN LUTHIR. 



jwssiblo way. 

It is not pretonnod that all those 
reforms have been perfectly car- 
ried out. The evils of slavery 
aud tho rum tralhc arc* still, no 
doubt, i-rying evIK. Malaijasy 
fcocioty, It rau.'it be rerannbered, 
is ritili very imporfceliy oviran- 
izeil : and ineae r.re evils which 
more oiiliijhtenod ualions have 
found it dithcult or impossibli- to 
ijet rid of. But tho queen was a 
wise and liberal ruler, leading 
boforo her people a life of blame- 
lessness, of true Christian piety, 
of devotion to thi! iiiterests of tho 
kingdom. Her Christian spirit 
brought shame to tho representa- 
tives of a nation which has been 
professedly Christian more cen- 
turies than hers has years. When 



oldest and nest beloved son of the 
Church directly descended from 
Christ and tho Apostles ! Queen 
Ranavalona II . 1.1 dead, and her 
iieicrt succeeds her. Tho world 
can ask nothiii!^ better of tho now 
ruler, who is said to bo hostile to 
the French pretension.", than that 
shj may bo a worthy successor of 
Qiioeii Ranavalona II. — Indepen- 



MOLLYS'S WHITE ROSE. 

Molly Nelson had a white rose- 
bush which was tho prido of her 
heart. Never was there a bush 
which was more dearly loved nor 
more constantly cared for ; and 
happy waa little Molly vrben she 
had a bud from it to lay beside 



«t4»liH« 



her mother's pUio, or a rluter o' 
roses and ueran''M.i leaves lolsku 
to her tearher i a gut. 

" I havi been to see Jfasia 
Hunter," »aid tister Nell ono 
night. " I think I nuver felt to 
sorry for uu) child as . lu fur 

her, 

" Whiit hsH tiappenod f Aro 
Iho Hunters in any ffroaler 
trouble than usual ? " asked mam- 
ma. KverybtMly know that Mr. 
Huntvr drink, und Mrs Hunter 
wat cross, Hiiil tho children 
often went hungry. 

Hiiter Ni II went on. Jessie foil 
through • hole in tho floor at tho 
mill yektirdsy, and has hurt her 
back 'Ibo doctor savs it is not 
likely sho will ever l>o able to 
walk airain. ' 

Molly's brown eves opened 
wide with horror, anil then filled 
with tears. Poor, poor Jessio ! 
A day or two afterwards 
mamm asked her to car- 
ry a Itltbi basket ol dain- 
ties lo Mrs. Hunter's 
There was a cup of cua- 
lard, a glass of amber 

Ielly, and ii loaf of bread. 
l<ibbio brought a half- 
docen eggs, laid by hin 
hens, nnd Nell slippi'd 
over everything a doublo 
napkin, insi.lo of which 
was a beautiful Scriptnro 
card with a lovely j,ic- 
turo and a lovelier text. 
•' I wish I had some- 
thing of my very own to 
give Jessie,,' said Molly 
to herself, " but I haven t 
a thing. Not even a bud 
is out on my rosebush." 

So away she tripped. 
The basket was a little 
bit heavy, but that sho 
did not mind. Her feet 
vero light, her hands 
were stronff, and her 
cheeks were as red as 
health could make a girl's 
cheeks. 

When she camo to 
Jessie's house, and went 
into tho littlo crowded 
room, at one aide of which 
was Jessie's bed she felt, 
as she said next day, 
"just dreadfully." "To 
see Jessio lying there so 
white and thin and still, 
not able to turn, and not ablo to lift 
her head from iho pillow, a cripple 
for lifo ! Molly left tho nice 
things she had brought, and went 
soberly homo keeping up a very 
busy thinking. 

Two daya later any one enter- 
ing Jessie's apartment would 
have seen i:i the window a cer- 
tain thrifty rosebush turning its 
leaves to tho sun and holding up 
two or three buds ready to bloom. 
The sick girl watched it with de- 
light. 

Molly had kissed it and bidden 
it good-bye, and when it was gone 
she missed it sadly ; yet there was 
a happy feeling in her heart, for 
she had done what she could, anu 
she knew she would receive the 
Master's blessing. — Ex. ^ 

ih4I 



It 



f 



110 



REPRINTED STORIES, FRO VI THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



V 



W 



THE GIANT SNAPPINa 
TURTLE. 



In tho accompanying engrav- 
ing is represented the North Ame- 
rican giant snapping turtle ( Dry. 
OHSfxferus). It attains a weight of 
about 60 to 80 lbs., and specimens 
nearly six feet in length have 
been frequently caught. Tho 
back is of dark slate blue color 
and covered with numerous yel- 
low and reddish dots. Tho belly 
is white and the head covered 
with dark spots. A light 
band connects the eyes 
and descends on both 
sides along the neck to 
theshonlderR. Tho chin, 
feet, and tail are marbled 
white; th« iris of the eye 
is of a bright yellow color. 

This turtle inhabits 
principally, according to 
Holbrook, the Savannah 
and Alabama rivers, also 
the northern lakes, and 
even the Hudson River; 
Lat it is missing in all 
rivers entering the Atlan- 
tic between the mouth 
of tho Hudson and that 
of the Savannah. Into the 
great lakes of the North 
the turtle was prohibly 
brought from the great 
Southern rivers, in which 
it is indigenous, by the 
great inundations, by 
which the lUiiioia RiviT 
is brought in connect'on 
with Lake Michii,'iiu, tho 
Pet'.'rs River, and Red 
River. Into the Slate ot 
New York it probably 
emigrated tlirough the 
Erie Canal, as before tho 
completion of tho latter it 
was unknown in Now 
York waters. 

In most of those rivers, 
especially those of thi' 
South, this turtle is very 
common. In clear, quiet 
weather they apjiear in 
large numbers atthe sur- 
face or ou tho rocks in 
tho water sunning ihem- 
Kolves. AVheu watchiiicr 
for prey, they hiiie uiiilor 
roots or stones, and lie 
motionless, till eemo small 
lish, li.-'ard, or even a 
small water bird, ap- 
proaches its hiding place. 
Then the .somewhat elon- 
gated n.^ck darts out sad- 
dcnly ; it ik-.\ i misses its 
aim. In an instant iho 
prisoner i.s .swallowi'(l,aiid 
the turtle resumi?s its old 
position to repeat tho 
same operation, when opporiunity 
oilers. They are also great 
enemies of ihe youiisf alligators 
when llu.se are just hatched. 
Thousands of them are devoured 
by the voracious turtle.^, which 
sixain fall jirey to such of the 
gro\.ii up alligators as were 
hai)py ciu)U!^h toe.scape. 

in May I lie femali's select sandy 
^ spots along the shore, mountiu'.,' 
i b hills ol I onsi(li;rable size if neces- 

«»*» 



sity requires it. Hero the eirgs 
are deposited. Their calcareous 
shells are vei'v fragile, more 83 
than those of the eggs of other 
sweet water turtles. Very little 
is known of the early life of the 
young, which are hatched in June. 

Among all North American tur- 
tles this species is, for culinary 
purposes, the most valuable, and 
it is therefore extensively hunted. 
They are either shot or caught in 
nets and with the hook. Grown 



little Tommy Gray, as he was 
walking in the garden along with 
his father. 

" Why do you wished him 
killed ?" said his father. 

" Oh ! because he if such an 
ugly thing and lam afraid he will 
eat up everything in Iho garden. 
You know we killed several bugs 
and worms here last evening. I 
am sure Ibis toad is lauch worse 
than they. 

" We killed the bugs and 




him and see what he will do." 

Tommy looked about, and soon 
found three bugs which he plac- 
ed near tho toad, and then atood 
back a short distance to see the 
result. Soon tho buga began to 
move away. The toad saw them, 
and made a quick forward motion 
of his head. He darted out his 
tongue and instantly drow them, 
one by one into his mouth. 
Tommy clapped hii handa with 
delight. 

" How can such a 
clumsy-looking fellow 
use his head and tongue 
so nimbly ?" said Tommy ; 
and he ran off to find 
more food for him. 

Tho next evening 
Tommy went again into 
the garden and soon 
found Ihe object of his 
search ready for his sup- 
per. At first ihe toad was 
shy, but he soon learned 
to sit still while Tommy 
placed his food near him. 
Then he would dart 
out his tongue and eat 
the bugs while Tommy 
was close hy. Finding 
that the boy did not hurt 
him, he soon lost all fear, 
and became a great pet. 
Tommy named him 
Humpy, and says ho 
would not hiivo him kill- 
ed now for anything. — 
Ex. 



THE C1I.\.NT B.VAPPINO TURTIiE. 



spocitnc'is must be handled with 
care, -m Ihey deli>nd themselves 
(lesper.ntely, and can iiillict dan- 
iT'Tous wounds. — /i.i;. 



TOMMY LEARNS ABOUT 
T0.\1)S 

■ ».h, i)apD, see what a great 
nijly toad ! Do got n slick and kill 
him before he gets nway," said 



worms because they were destroy- 
ing our flowers and vegetables. 
This i)oor toad never destroys a 
plant of any kind about the place; 
besides, he is one of our best 
friends. These insects that are 
doing so much harm in our gar- 
dens are just what he uses for his 
food. I have no doubt that he 
kills inor.! of them every day 
thiin wu did last evening. If you 
can find a live bug, place it near 



A PLAN IN LIFE. 

" What is your plan in 
life, Neddie ?" 1 asked n 
small boy, turning flora 
his big brothers, who 
were talking about theirs, 
to which ho and I had 
been listening; " what is 
yours, Neddie?" 

" I am not big enough 
for a plan yet," said Ned- 
die ; ''but 1 have a pur- 
pose." 

" That is good ; it is not 
every one who has a pur- 
pose. What is your pur- 
pose, Neddie ?'' 

"To grow up a good 
1)oy, so as to be a good 
man, like my father," said 
Neddie. And by tho 
way ho said it, it was 
plain ho meant it. 11 ia 
father was n noble Chris- 
tian man, and Neddie 
could not do better than 
follow in his steps, A 
boy with snch a purpose 
will not fail of his mark. 
Jlnnilof Hope Reoiew. 



The lovo of God is the source 
of every right action and feeling, 
so it is theonly principle which ne- 
cessarily ennobles the lore of our 
fellow-croaturcs. —//annaA More. 



Prayer should bo tho key of 
the day and tho lock of Iho night. / 
— Bithop Berkeley. i 



#H9 



ill do." 

>nd Boon 
te pl»c- 
n stood 

see the 
began to 
iw them, 
d motion 

out his 
\w them, 

mouth, 
ids with 



such a 

fellow 

id tongue 

I Tommy, 

f to find 

im. 

evening 
igain into 
nd sooji 
ect of his 
»r bis Bup- 
,e toad was 
>n learned 
le Tommy 

near him. 
ould dart 
le and eat 
le Tommy 
. Finding 
id not hurt 
ost all fear, 
I great pet. 
mcd him 
Bays ho 
\-c him kill- 
ftuylhing. — 



IN LIFE. 

youT plan in 
" I asked n. 
urning fiom 
•others, who I 
about theirs, 
o and I had 
ig ; " what is 
o?" 

t big enough 

et," said Ned- 

havo a l>ur- 

food ; it is not 
ho has a pur- 
is your pur- 

0?" 

up a good 
to be a good 
y father," said 
ud by the 
d it, it was 
neaut it. His 
a noble Chris- 

and Neddio 
lo better than 

lis steps, A 
»ch tt purpose 
1 of his mark. 
view. 



d is the source 

m and feeling, 

iciple which no- 

the lovo of our 

Hannah More. 

bo the key of 
bck of tho night. 






REPRINTED STORIES, FROM TilE 'NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



Ill 



"I'LL DO IT;" OR, THE 
BROKEN JAR. 

In the early days of the temper- 
ance movement, Mr. Joseph Livo- 
sey, of Preston, issued some sirik- 
ing broadsheets, which he desired 
should be posted on tho walls ot 
thoroughfares, and, when practi- 
cable, placed in the windows of 
shopkeepers, so that passers-by 
might read the letter-press. 

A worthy tailor in Glasgow, 
whose shop was near to some of 
the crowded closes, said to him- 
self, "I cannot help this good 
cause by public speaking, 1 have 



struggled in the water. Ho could 
swim, but he stood coolly, doing 
nothing. The crowd were amazed 
and' indignant. "Why does he 
stand looking," they said, " and 



struggles and strives, works and 
wpi'ps, he can no more save him- 
self from hell than the drowning 
man couiil from the watery grave 
that was inevitable bht for the 



not jump in and save him ?" The strong arm of the brave and wise 
drowning man had sunk twice, sailor. !t is this that the '^Vord 
and was about to throw up his of God states so distinctly, clearly, 
arms and go down for the last ' and constantly : " For when we 
time, when, to tho surprise of the ' worn yot without strength, in duo 
people, tho sailor jumped in and tinio Christ died for tho angc dly." 



bore him lo the surface and to 
safety. 

Now the people could under- 
stand tho sailor's apparent indif- 

' his 



" "Without strength" is the Di- 
vine statement as to man. This 
leaves the .ground clear for Christ 
to come in and be a perfecv. Sa- 
viour. And as the sailor saved 



_ . . fpT'.nce, and tho wisdom of 

no talent for that ; but as hundreds I course. The fact is. tho drowning the man when ho had given up, 
of people pass my window day 'man was too lively and heavy to so does God through Chr'st, and 
by day, I will put ono of Mr. 
Livesey's bills in one of the 
panes of my window. That 
pane shall be given up for 
bills, tracts, or other papers, 
wi*h the hope that by God's 
blessing, somo passers-by may 
be induced to read, and to tarn 
over a new leaf in life." 

In the above - mentioned 
close lived a man who was 
noted for his hard drinking. 
Every day ho might be seen 
with a brown jar in his hand 
on his way to the whiskey- 
shop, where it was daily re- 
filled. He had to pass tho 
tailor's shop. His eye rested 
on tho bill. Ho stopped and 
read it throuufh, and then 
passed on to tho whiskey-shop. 

This occurred several niorn- 
inffs, and the tailor from his 
inner room was able to scan 

the man's face without 1 eing 

himself observed. He noticed 

that the man's interest in the 

paper increased, and by the 

twitching of his face it was 

evident that the words were 

making a deep impression on 

his mind. 

One morning the tailor was 

surprised by seeing the man 

with the brown jar again read- 
ing the bill, and then heard 

him say, " I'll do it ; I will, 1 

will ;" at the same time rais- 
ing the brown jar high over 

his head, he dashed it down 

on the flags into a thousand 

pieces, which drew the tailor 

to his shop-door. 

It wus the turning-point'in 

the man's life. With the aban- 
donment of tho whiskey, tho 

man's mind was turned to 

better and higher things. The 

tailor, who was a Christian man, 

took him kindly by the hand, 

prayed with him, and cheered 

him in his new course, and ere 

long the noted drinker became a 

converted character. — From Illus- 
trated F>.tj Leaf No. 164. 



THE 




' 1 LL 1)0 IT ; 



I WILL, 1 WILL." 



WITHOUT STRENGTH. 

A large company of peopl^ 
were gathered at *\a eud cf a 
wharf on the look-out, when one 
of the number ;'ell into the deep 
water. Thcie wae great excite- 
ment, but uo ono dared to jump 
in. But there stood an able- 
bodied sailor right over hiir us he 



make it prndent to plunce into I Hi.s precious atoning death, save 
the water niter him. He waited I every one who comes to this con 
until tho man had no strength 



elusion, that ho is not only a sin- 
and then res-|ner, but also without strength. 
Such a one will readily appreci- 
ate the strong arm and saving 
grace of the Saviour of sinners, 



GRAY HEAD BY THE 
HEARTH 

A private letter from a lady 
who is spending the year among 
the peasants of Tyrol, says • " The 
morning after our arrival, wo 
were awakened by the sou nd of 
a violin and flutes under the win- 
dow, and hurrying down, foand 
the little house adorned as for a 
feast, — garlands ever the door 
and wreathing a high chair which 
was set in state. 

" The table was already covered 
with gifts, brought by the young 
people whose music v/e had heard 
The whole neighborhood v/ere 
kinsfolk, and these gifts came 
from uncles and coocins in 
every far-off degree They 
were very simple for the 
donors are poor — knitted 
gloves, a shawl, baskets of 
flowers, jars of fruit, loaves of 
bread ; but upon all some little 
message of love was pinned 

"Is there a bride in this 
h^'use ?" I asked of my land- 
lord. 

" 'Ach, nein !' he said ' Wo 
do not make such a pother 
about our young people It is 
the grandmother's birthday ' 
" The grandmother, in her 
spectacles, white apron and 
high velvet cap, was a heroine 
all day, sitting in state to re- 
ceive visits, and dealing out 
slices from a sweet loaf to each 
who came. I could not but 
remember certain grandmo- 
thers at heme, just as much 
loved as she, probably, but 
whose dull, sad lives were 
never brightened by p.iy such 
pleasure as this ; and I thought 
we could learn much from 
these poor mountaineers " — 
Youths' Companion. 



The Range of Human 
knowledge has increased so 
enormously that no brain can 
grapple with it ; and the man 
who would know one thing 
well must have the courage 
to be ignornnt of a thousand 
things, however attractive or 
inviting. Broad culture, many- 
sidedness, are beautiful things 
■ to contemplate ; but it is the 
narrow-edged men,— the men 
of single and intense purpose, 
who steel their souls against 
all things else, — who accom- 
plish the hard work, of the world, 
and who are in demand when 
hard work is to be done." 



I 



! ' am: 



even to struggle 
cued him. 

Now this affords an illustration 
of tiod'." wiiy in saving a sinner 
God s way may bo to wait - and 
not with iudillerenee surely?— 

until the sinner finds out that he 

1 iu i„ „„,.- «, liolr. savino- nun • jdv jfrttoo ye »io 

..as no strength to sa^e or help , ^^,^ ^^^j^^^ . j.^^^^ » ^^^ ^j^;^ ^^^^ 

suv: .Mmselt. \^^ yourselves, it is the gift of 

It is ono thing to own ouoself (jod ; not of wor.ks, lest any man 

a ^nlner, and quite another to gi,(,„jjj boast" — Word and Work. 

conlesK that ono is without j ^ 

strength to save himself. Buti ... 

such IS tho ruin of man, and such 1 Hkak instruction and be wise, 
bis imi.oteuey, that though he! and reluse it not.— Prov viii, 38. 



the word, to be the Saviour, and 
to give Him all the glory for 
saving hirn " By grace ye are 



WiTiUNO Hearts.— Tho small- 

ness of our gifts need not di tor us 

r allow" Him" in every sense o'*-' from giving, for the Bookdo«w not 



#f49|tH^ 



tell us that as many as had plenty 
gave, but as many as were willing- 
hearted, " and ei ry one whose 
heart stirred her up and whose 
spirit made willing." It is that 
willing-heartednesswe need most 
of all, that heartstirring that will 
make us not willing, but anxious 
to give all that we have and all 
we are *. Him who hath loved 

US. 



•■>rv^ 



y 112 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHER N MESSENGE R.' 






OBBBES AND THBIR NBSTd. 

A fierce warfare is continually 
waned against these beautiful 
birds, which threatens them with 
extermination, not for their flesh, 
which is generally coarse and 
Mshy, but for their brilliant plu- 
mage, which is a farorite adorn- 
laeiit for ladies' bonnets and 
dresMS. There are more than 
twenty species of the gro^'^, in all 
parts of the world. They are 
aquatic birds, walking with 
great difficulty on the land, and 
are osnally found in small flocks 
OB the sea-coast and the shores 
of fresh-water lakes. They mi- 
grate in summer to the arctic re- 
gions to breed and rear their 



of Sir John Lubbock) is devoted 
to work, and at the present time 
contains a menaa^erie of ants. 
Between 30 and 40 species are re- 
presented by separate nosts, plac- 
ed under glass, carefully shaded 
from light, and surrounded by 
water to prevent the interesting 
insects from escaping and over- 
running the house. It is pleasant 
to see 8ir John, arrayed in his 
workina; suit of gray stufl", gently 
uncovering the nests and replac- 
ing the screens quickly lest the 
animals' should take alarm at the 
influx of light, and be thrown in- 
to disorganization by the thought 
that their nest is attacked It ie 
curious to observe that these tiny 
creatures have animals with them. 



— making themselves useful as 
scavengers. A chat with the pro- 
prietor of this workroom soon dis- 
pels the illusions of the unscien- 
tific mind as to the industry of 
the ant. It is an industrious ani- 
mal in the main— but there are 
ants and ants. The large red 
species found in Central Europe 
is not industrious at all, being a 
purely fightins aristocrat and 
slaveholder. She (the fighting 
ants are Amazons) makes preda- 
tory excursions and carries of the 
puixB of another species, and 
brings them up as slaves. As Sir 
John Lubbock points out, the 
slaveholders present a striking 
insUnce of the degrading ten- 
dency of slavery. They can 



of natural history, have all been 
verified at High Elms by obser- 
vations which confirm those of 
Hnber in almost every case. 



YE DID IT NOT. 

Not to do that which ought to 
be done is just as sinful as to do 
that which ought not to he done. 
If one who had not before given 
serious thought to this subject, 
were to go through the Bible, 
concordance in hand, for the sake 
of finding out how largely sins 
of omission are made the eronnds 
of condemnation, the result would 
probably startle him. Over and 
over again the accusation comes 
in the Torm of a negative : " The 




UKEBE8 AND THSIB NESTS. 



young Thpir nests are made of 
grasses lined with down, which 
are placed among the reeds, and 
rise and fall withtho water. The 
eogs are three or lour in number 
Tney are excellent swiminors and 
divers, swimming under the 
•water tor a considerahle distance 
in pursiiit of crame, and sinking 
beneath the surface, leaving only 
their bills out, at the approach of 
danger. They feed on aquatic 
animals and plants. 

SIR JOHN LUHHOCK AND 
HLS ANTS. 

The London Worlil says that 
one of the fiest rooms on the first 
floor of High Elms (the residence 



which, it may be presumed, are 
useful to them in some way, as 
the ants forbear to attack them. 
They are mostly of the beetle race, 
and some, like the little clavi'^er, 
are quite blind, possibly from con- 
firmed subterranean habits, and 
are only found in ants' nests, the 
proprietory of which take as much 
interest in them as they do in 
their own young. Apparently 
ants have a considerable variety 
of domestic animals, among which 
the blind Platyafthrm is conspic- 
uous, as well as the Beckia albinos, 
the latter of which was fnlly de- 
scribed by Sir John Lubbock, 
who suggests that perhaps these 
two act the part of the Constanti- 
nople dog and the turkey buzzard 



neither wash nor feed themselves. 
They have lost the greater part 
of their instincts; their artof build- 
ing; their domestic habits (for 
they take no care of their young) ; 
their industry (for they take no 
part in providing themselves with 
food) : and it the colony changes 
its nest the rulers are carried to 
the new one by their slaves. Even 
their structure has altered ; their 
mandibles have lost their teeth 
and have become mere nippers, 
terrible in war, but useless for 
other purposes. So helpless have 
they become, except for fighting 
purposes, that if deprived of their 
slaves they actually die o'.' starva- 
tion. These curious facts, which 
sound almost like the romance 



diseased have ye not strengthened, 
neither have ye healed that which 
was sick, neither have ye bound 
up that which was broken, 
neither have ye brought again 
that which was driven away, 
neitber have ye sought that which 
was lost." It is not enough to 
live a respectable life, doing no 
particular harm to any one ; the 
Bible demand is that every on ^ 
should do all the good that ht. 
properly can. The final ground 
of condemnation, as shown in the 
inspired description of the last 
Judgment, hinges on the words, 
" Te did it not." Unless one is 
ready to do all the good that ho 
rightly can, he is not free from 
this condemnation. ^ 

%m 




REPRINTED STORIES. FROM TEE ''NORTHERN ME.'-SENGER.' 



being 



girls in her class, Emma 
one ot the absentees. 

" Where conld the Lowell girls 
have been? And Snsie and 
Jessie ? ' said Florrie, referring to 
the absent scholars, when she 



FINE FEATHERS. 

The Hemlock Street Sunday- 

school, to which Florrie Warren 

and Mabel Chandler belonged, was 

a thoroughly live school ; it gare 

liberally to all missions, but was, „. . 

especially interested in the poor T'"** '^ t "^ """ ""'tween her 

of the city The boys were ready <=<"»»"» Lizzie and Mabel Chandler. 

to give their torn books or dis- "J^"? "°** ^ sick, I think," 

carded toys to some little urchin, r^P'jf^ Mabel. 

who would appreciate them very " Snppose we go now and find 

highly, and the girls exhibited a!"'''- " <ne7 <"•«. perhaps we can 

kindly rivalry in the many I '^o *S™^''""?, '^°'' '***'"•" 

• "Very well. And yon will go 

with us, will you not, Lizzie ? " 

Mabel asked. 

" I think not ; mamma will 
expect me at home." 

" By the way, Lizzie, what has 
become of your lovely new spring 
suit ? I was surprised to see you 
in that plain old gray dress these 
two lovely Sundays. Did'nt the 
n*w dress fit you ? " 

" Oh yes, beautifully ! Mamma 
says I look as if I had been melted 
aud poured into it." 

" Then for pity sakes why did'nt 
you wear it ? The one you'vegot 
on is real dowdy ! " cried Florrie. 

" It is clean, is'nt it ?" laughed 
Lizzie. 



many j 
stitches they took for the ragged 
orphans or the neglected waifs. 

And not content with feeding, 
clothing, or amusing their less 
fortunate neighbors, these boys 
and girls used their utmost efforts 
to assiat their teachers and super- 
intendent in gathering into the 
Sunday-school numbers of the 
untaught children. It wasa point 
of honor with them to greet every 
tattered or ahabby new-comer with 
a amile and pleasant word, to find 
the hymns for them, or to explain 
what was to be the topic of the 
leaaon for the day. 

I presume it is needless to say 
that the refreshments which were 
served at the Christmas tree and 
the annual June picnic were of a 
quality that gladdened hungry 
eyes, and a quantity that supplied 
both yawning stomachs and 
pockets. 

One beautiful Sunday in spring, 
Florrie and Mabel (who lived in 
adjoining houses) started together 
for school, both ofthem dressed in 
handsome new garmentii Florrie, 
who was fair, looked exceedingly 
pretty in a soft gray cashmere 
polonaise, elaborately trimmed 
with blue silk and looped over a 
blue skirt, aud her golden curls 
were covered by a gray chip hat 
ornamented with long blue 
feathers. Mabel was a decided 
brunette, and her costume was of 
ecru cashmere and cardinal silk ; 
her hat matched it. Two hand- 
somer costumes or two prettier 
little girla could not ba found in 
the city 

" Shall we call for Emma Miller ?" 
asked Mabel, as they drew near 
the narrow, dismal street where 
poor Mrs. Miller and her five 
children lived 

" Have we got time ? " Florrie 
asked, thus generously giving 



" I am afraid so. And never 
again, summer or winter, will I 
wear such costly clothes as these 
to church or Sunday-school." 

And she was as good as her 
word. — Frances E. Wadleigh tn 
Child's Paper. 

SILENT INFLUENCE. 

"I have no influence," said Elsie 
Lee to her friend. Miss Tomsin. 
" Why, I am so timid when in 
company with others that I 
hardly daro raise my eyes or 
open my lips.'' 

" Thnt may be," replied the 
older lady, " and yet y*n w* 
always exerting influence wher 
ever you go. You cannot help 
yourself. An hour ago I bought 
a little bunch of violets from a 
German flower girl, and I set 
them on yonder shelf, besiOe my 
dear mother's picture. It is a 
very tiny bunch, and a person 
entering the room would very 
likely not see them, for they do 
not challenge attention. But 
every nook and corner of the 
apartment feels their presence, 
for their fragrance is pervading 
the atmosphere. So it is with 






jhis shoulders. In doing this ho 
asked for all, but I chose to keep 
back a few for specia^are. I soon 
found them no little hinderance to 
the freedom of my movement ; but 
still I would not give them up 
until my guide, returning to mo 
where I sat resting for a moment, 
kindly but firmly demanded that 
I should give him everything but 
vaj Alpine stock. Putting them 
with the utmost care upon his 
shoulders, with r look of intense 
satisfaction he led the way. And 
now in my freedom, I found I 
could make double speed with 
double safety. 

Then a voice spoke inwardly : 
" foolish, wilful heart, hast thou, 
indeed, indeed, given up thy last 
burden ? Thou hast no need to 
carry them, nor even the right." 
I saw it all in a flash ; and then, 
a« I leaped lightly from rock to 
rock down the steep mountain 
side, I said within myself, "Aud 
even thus will I follow Jesus, my 
Guide, myBurden-bearer. I will 
rest all my care upon him, for he 
carelh for me." — Sarah Smiley. 




" Of course it is clean. But why 
wear it 1 I am just dying to find 
out , are not you, Mabel ? " 

And Mabel too, in the extrava- 
gant fashion in which girls talk 
professed herself " dying " of 
curiosity 

" You see we've got so many 
poor girls— f#a/ poor girls who 
never have nice clothes — in our 



Mabel a chance to consult hernewi Sunday-school, that mamma don't 



watch. 

" Plenty ! If we do not call for 
her, somebody may think wo are 
too proud to go there in our hand- 
some dresses." 

Emma was not quite ready, but 



like to see me put ou my hand- 
some drefses or hats to wear 
there; slio says that poor girls 
have feelings as well as rich ones. 
and that their shabby apparel will 
look shabbier than ever beside 



the two girls waitei for her ; when my silk or velvet. Sho says that 
she at length appeared she seemed I she has heard poor poopla sn> 
annoyed or embarrassed about that they were ashamed to go to 



something, and hardly spoke one 
word in answer to their friendly 



church in their rags and sit be&ide 
elogantly-dressed people ; I know 



chatter Whatever the cloud upon I should feel so too. And it is not 
Emma's spirits may have been, it I right to do anything, especially in 
seemed to afl°ect all the rest of her G^d's house, which will hurt 



class ; Florrje and Mabel were the 
only two out of Miss Grace's seven 
pupils who appeared at all cheerful 
The next Sunday was as bright 
and charming as its prediicossor ; 



oni) 

ipap 
T 



people's feelings." 

" Oh Mabel ! " exclaimed 
Florrie, with blushes in her 
cheeks, "can it bo that our 
finery was the cause of those 



yet MiM Grace had only three ! girls staying away to-day?" 



you, my dear. You love your 
Saviour, and you try to serve 
him. You think you cannot 
speak for him, but if you live for 
him, and with him, in gentleness, 
patience, and self-denial, that is 
better than talking. It does more 
good. The other evening Jerry 
Halcomh, who is thoughtless and 
giddy, made a jest of a verso of 
Scripture in your hearing. You; 
wished to protest against his act, 
and tried to do so, but the words j 
would not come. Yet your! 
pained look, your quick blush,: 
your instinctive indignant gesture, ' 
spoke for you, and tlie young man ! 
turned and said, ' I beg your par- 1 
don. Miss Elsi^v' Was not this a: 
proof that he saw and felt your ; 
condemnation ? " — Chrh. Woman 

CASTING ALL YOUR CARES 
UPON HIM. 

In tho summer of 1S78 I de- 
scended tho Rhigi with one of the 
mostfaithfulofthoold Swiss guides 
Beyond the service of the day, he 
gave me unconsciously a lesson 
for life. His first care was to put 
my wrap and other burdens upon 



A SHATTERED TESTAMENT 
—A RELIC OF TEL-EL- 
KEBIR. 
During the battle of Tel-el-Ke- 
bir Private William Room of the 
Highland Light Infantry, had a 
marvellous escape. In jumpiug 
into the trenches a bullet from the 
Egyptians struck him in tho 
pouch-bag nt his side, going 
through a Testament he was 
carrying with him. This fortu- 
nately changed the direction of the 
bullet, which otherwise would 
have gone through his stomach. 
As it was the ball entered his hip, 
and came out of the inner part of 
his thigh. Mr. Room is now do- 
ing well. — Our engraving and the 
above particulars are taken from 
a photograph published by 
Messrs Hills and Saunders, Gros- 
venor Fine Art Gallery, who in- 
form us that a framed copy has 
been sent to Her Majesty — 
Grathic. 



WAYS TO DO GOOD. 
Pray for individuals by name. 
Send well-selected tracts by mail. 
Loan " Baxter's Call to the Uncon- 
verted." Invito your neighbor to 
church. Persuade the unsaved to 
attend prayer-meeting. Be fear- 
less in expressing Christian views. 
Visit the sick, and p'-ay with 
them. Benefit the poor, then win 
them to Christ. Urge church- 
members to take religious papers. 
Seek the conversion of thoughtful 
children. Remind tho " back- 
slider " of his solemn vows. Show 
the " reformed " man his need of 
Christ. Converse of Jesus at 
length with willing hearers. Ex- 
hort the convicted to yield and 
turn. Look after new converts. 
Keep near tho Saviour yourself. 
To general consecration add tho 
special consecration of one-tenth 
of your income, one-seventh of 
your time, and all your thought- ^ 
fulness. — Am. Mettengrr, ^ 



•H» 




REPRINTED STORIEvS, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



1^ 



ENGRAVED EGG^S. 

Some time ago there waa a 
man who stood upon tho street 
corners and in the public squares 
selling egg shells upon which 
were engraved names, devices, or 
flowers. The art of engraving 
npon eggs is connected with a 
carious and little known histori- 
cal fact. 

In the month of August, 1808, 
at the time of the Spanish war, 
there was found in the patriar- 
chal church of Lisbon an egg 
upon the shell of which was an- 
nounced the approaching exter- 
mination of the French. This 
fact caused a lively fermentation 
in the minds of the superstitious 
Portuguese population, and came 
near causing an uprising. 

The French commander re- 
medied the matter very ingeni- 
ously by distributing throughout 
the city thousands of eggs that 
bore engraved upon them a con- 
tradiction of the prediction. The 
Portuguese, deeply astonished, 
did not know what to think of it, 
but thousands of eggs giving the 
lie to a prediction engraved upon 
one only, had the power of the 
majority. In addition, a few 
days afterward, posters put up on 
all the street corners pointed out 
the manner in which the miracle 
was performed. Tho mode of 
doing it is very simple. 

It consists in writing upon the 
egg shell with wax or varnish or 
simply with tallow, and then im- 
mersing the eirg in some weak 
acid, such, for example, as vine- 
gar, dilute hydrochloric acid, or 
etching liquor. Everywhere 
where the viirnish or wax has 
not protected the shell, tho lime 
of the latter is decomposed and 
dissolved in the acid, and the 
writing or drawing remains in 
relief. Although the modus iiper- 
an-ii presents no dilficulty, a few 
pre^aulif *•■' lUst •>■; taken in 
oro' • ' /'cessful oil a first 

<;"" .- ■. .11. 

In tho lirst place, as the eggs 
that are to be engraved are 
Ui-ually previously blown, so that 



they may be pre- 
served without al- 
teration, it is neces- 
sary before immers- 
ing them in the acid 
to plug up the aper- 
tures in the extremi- 
ties with a bit of 
beeswax ; and, more- 
over, as the eggs are 
very light, they must 
be held at the bottom 
of the vessel full of 
acid by means of a 
thread fixed to a 
weight or wound 
round the extremity 
of a glass rod. 

Ifthe acid is very 
dilute, the operation, 
though it takes a 
little longer, gives 
better results. Two 
or three minutes 
usually suffice to give 
characters that have 
8affi.cient relief. — La Nature. 



$ 



m^ 



DROWNING THE SQUIRREL. 

When I was about six years 
old, one morning going to school, ! his body in order to crush the life 



I want you to remember this as 
long as you live; and when 
tempting to destroy any little ani- 
mal or bird, to think of what I 
have said. God does not allow 
us to kill his creatures for our 
pleasure." 

More than forty years have 
since passed, and I have never 
forgotten what the good old man 
said, nor have I ever wantonly 
killed the least animal for amuse- 
ment since. — Sf lee ted 

THE CAPE BUFFALO. 

The Cape bnffalo is a formid- 
able animal, a little larger than 
an ordinary ox, but possessed of 
much greater strength. It is mo- 
rose, lowering, and ill-tempered ; 
terrible in outward aspect and a 
dangerous neighbor. It has an 
unpleasant habit of remaining 
quietly in its lair until the unsus- 
pecting traveller passes close to 
its place of concealment, when it 
leaps suddenly upon him filled 
with rage. 

When it has succeeded in its 
attack it first tosses the unhappy 
victim in the air, then kneels upon 



a ground-squirrel ran into his out of him, then butts at the 
hole in the ground before me. : corpse until it has given vent to 
They like to dig holes in some ; its insane fury, and ends by lick- 
place where they can pat oat i ing the mangled limbs until it 
their heads to see if danger is strips off the flesh with its rougn 
near. I thought, now I shall tongue. Sometimes the animal 
hav( Sne fun. As there was a { is so recklessly furious in its un- 
stream of water just at hand, I ; reasoning anger that it actually 
determined to pour water into ; blinds itself by its heedless rush 
the hole till it should be full, and ! through formidable thorn bushes, 
e j.u» i:4i.i« .«;»..i »« """""' which are 80 common in Southern 



\ ; 



force the little animal to come 
out, so that I might kill it. I was 
soon pouring water in on the 
poor squirrel. I could hear it 
struggle, and said : 

" Ah, my fine fellow, I will 
soon have you out now." 

Just then I heard a 
voice behind me : " Well 
my boy, what have you 
got there ?" I turned and 
saw one of my neighbors, 
a good old man, with 
long, white locks, that 
had seen sixty winters. 

"Well," said I, "there 
is a ground-squirrel in 
here, and I am going to 
drown him out." 

Said he : " When I was 
a little boy, more than 
fifty years ago, I was en- 
gaged one day , just as you 
are, drowning a squirrel ; 
and an old man, such as I 
am, came along and said 
to me, ' You are a little 
boy. Now, if you were 
down in a narrow hole 
like that, and I should 
come and pour water 
down upon you, would 
you not think I was 
cruel ? God made the 
little squirrel, and life is 
as sweet to it as to you. 
Why torture to death a 
little innocent creature 
thatOod has made?"' He 
added ; " I have never for- 
gotten that, and never 
shall. Now, my dear boy, 



Africa. 

Although frequently found in 
large herds on the plains, the 
buffalo is principally a resident 
of the bash ; here he follows the 



paths of the elephant or rhino- 
ceros, or makes a road for himself. 
Daring the evening, night, and 
early morning he roams about 
the open country and gorges, but 
when the sun has risen high, or 
if he has cause for alarm, the glens 
and coverts nrre Bought,and amidst 
their shady *br aches he enjoys 
repose. 

The-flesh of the Cape buffalo is 
not in great request even among 
the Kaffirs, who are in no wise 
particular as to their diet. The 
hide, however, is exceedingly 
valuable, being used for tho 
manufacture of sundry leathern 
implements where great strength 
is required without much flexibil- 
ity, — Scientific American, 



1 Feel convinced that every 
man has given him of God much 
more than he has any idea of, 
and that he can help on the 
world's work more than ho knows 
of What we want is, the single 
eye that we may see what our 
work is, the humility to accept it, 
however lowly, the faith to do it 
for God, the perseverance to go 
on till death. — Norman McLeud. 










Amono the xoKKj beaatifal 
things seen at Rome is a bit of 
glass like the solid rim of a tum- 
bler, a transparent glass, a solid 
thing, which, when exhibited, is 
lifted up so as to show that there 
is nothing concealed ; but in the 
centre of the glass is a drop of 
colored glass, perhaps as large aa 
a pea, mottled like a dock, finely 
mottled with the shifting colored 
hues of the neck, and which even 
a miniature pencil coold not do 
more perfectly. 



CAPE BUFFALO.— (Bwia/MS Caffer.) 



T 



^H» 









i! 






REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER.' 



115 



HOW PINS ARE MADE. 

When you look at one of those 
little insiKnificsnt pins, do yon 
oyer think that a gwat deal of 
trouble was taken to get it jast 
right? Well, it takes a great 
deal of work to make a perfect 
pin. 

First, a reel of brass wire is 
taken of suitable thickunss. The 
wire passes over a strain* .ning 
board, after which it is i \ by 
two jaws, and a cutter v amis 
and cuts it off, leaving a project- 
ing part for a head. On the with- 
drawal of the cutter a hammer 
flies forward and makes a 
head on the pin ; then the 
jaws open and the pins 
drop on a finely ground 
metal plate, with the heads 
upward, until the end to be 
pointed comes into contact 
with a cylindrical roller 
with a grinding surface, 
which soon puts a fine point 
on the pins. They then fall 
into a box ready to receive 
them, and are ready for the 
second stage. After they are 
yellowed or cleaned, they 
are tinned, or whitened, as 
it is called. The pins are 
now ready to be placed in 
papers. One girl feeds a 
machine with pins, and 
another supplies the ma- 
chine with paper. The pins 
fall into a box the bottom of 
which is made of small, 
square steel bars, sufficiently 
wide apart to let the shank 
of the pin fall through, but 
not the head. As soon as the 
pins have fallen through the 
bottom of the box and the 
rows are complete, the bot- 
tom detaches itself, and row 
after row of pins is sent at 
regular interals to be placed 
in the papers. Meanwhile 
the paper has been properly 
folded and pierced to receive 
the pins, which by the nicest 
imaginable adjustmentscome 
exactly to their places. 

Pins were first used in 
Ei^landin the 15th century. 
They were first made of iron 
wire, but in 1640 brass pins 
were brought over from 
France by Catherine 
Howard, Queen of Henry 
VIII. At first pins were 
made by filing a piece of 
wire, and by twisting the 
other end. 

There were several inventions 
previously for holding together 
parts of the dress, such as 
buckles, brooches, clasps, hooks, 
etc. They are very costly to 
make,- but our readers think 
nothing now-a-days of a pin, un- 
less they happen to sit on the 
point of it, in which case thev 
usually say what they think witn 
out being questioned. — Treasure 
IVove, 



MAKING GL0BE8. 
The material of a globe is a 
thick, pulpy paper like soft straw 
board, and this is formed into 
two hemispheres from disks. A 
flat disk is cut in gores, or radical 
pieces, from centre to circumfer- 
ence, half of the gores being re- 
moved and the others brought to- 
gether, forming a hemispherical 
cup. These disks are gored un- 
der a cutting press, the dies of 
which are so exact that the gores 
come together at their edges to 
make a perfect hemisphere. The 
formation is also done by a press 



twelve sections, each of lozenge 
shape, the points extending from 
pole to pole, exactly as though the 
peel of an orange was cut through 
from stem to bud in twelve equal 
divisions. These maps are ob- 
tained in Scotland generally, al- 
though there are two or three 
establishments otherwheres which 
produce them. The paper of 
these maps is very thin but tena- 
cious, and is held to the globe by 
glue. The operator — generally a 
woman — begins at one pole, past- 
ing with the left hand and laving 
the sheet with the right, working 




the operator is so expert in coax- 
ing down fulnesses and in expand- 
ing s^'anty portions, all the time 
keeping absolute relation and per- 
fect joining with the other sec* 
tions and to their edges. The 
metallic work— the equators,meri< 
dians and stands — are finished by 
machinery. A coat of transpar- 
ent varnish over the paper sur- 
face completes the work, and thus 
a globe is built. — Scientific Ameri' 
can. 



BUOYS. 

Many of our young readers 
will be likely to take excur- 
sions by water this summer, 
and they will notice that 
upon entering any harbor 
there are buoys of different 
ccrtors, on either side of the 
channel. Those on the right 
hand are invariably painted 
red and those on the left, 
black. A buoy with horizon- 
tal stripes of both red and 
black indicates the centre of 
a very narrow channel, to 
which a vessel should keep 
as close as possible. Red 
and black vertical stripes 
show the locality of spits, or 
small points of land running 
into the sea, and of reefs. A 
buoy having red and black 
checks is to give warning 
against a rock or somie other 
obstruction. In case of two 
such obstructions, with a 
channel between, the buoy 
on the right will have red 
and white checks, and the 
one on the left, black and 
white checks. A green 
buoy is used to mark wrecks 
and has the word "wreck" 
painted in white letters upon 
it. By the way, would it 
not be a nice plan to have 
boys so marked that one 
could tell at a glance what 
they are good for?. Indeed 
we believe they are if one 
looks sharp. — Congregation- 
alisl. 



I 



OUTLINE DRAWING LESSON FOR THE YOUNO. 

{From a photjgraph). 



Hb who waits to do a great 
deal of ^ood at once will never 
do any thing.— SamiMi Johnson. 



with hemispherical mould and 
die, the edges of the gores being 
covered with glue. Two of these 
hemispheres are then united by 
glue and mounted on a wire, the 
ends oT which are the two axes of 
the finished globe. All this work 
is done while the paper is in a 
moist state. After drying, the 
rough paper globe is rasped down 
to a surface by coarse sand-paper, 
followed by finer paper, and then 
receives a coating of paint or 
enamel that will take a clean, 
smooth finish. 

The instructive portion is a 
map of the world, printed in 



along one edge to the north or 
other pole, coaxing the edge of 
the paper over the curvature of 
the globe with an ivory spatuki, 
and working down the entire 
paper to an absolutely smooth 
surface. 

As there are no laps to these 
lozenge sections the edges must 
absolutely meet, else there would 
be a mixed up mess, especially 
among the islands of some of the 

freat archipelagoes and in the ar- 
itrary politicalborders of the na- 
tions. This is probably the most 
ex*ct work in globe-making, and 
yet it appears to be easy because 



THE KITCHEN-GOD. 

Among the many gods of 
the Chinese is the kitchen- 
god. They put up a new 
one every New Year's Day, 
when they burn the old one. 
They think that this god 
takes care of everything in 
the kitchen ; and if the fire 
don't burn, or the bread is bak- 
ing to fast, or there is any trouble, 
they scold and beat the god. 
When he is burned, they think 
he goes to heaven, and tells all 
that has happened in their 
kitchen for a year ; so sometimes 
they daub molasses on his mouth 
before they burn him, and they 
think then he can't tell. What 
sad ideas these people have of 
God and of Providence ! 



EvEBY duty which is bidden 
to wait returns with seven fresh 
duties at its baok. — Charles Kings 
ley. 



^H» liiM 






Tll6 



REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THE "NORTHEm MESSENGER." 



— «Hft 

iil.Kf,. T 



A PINE-APPLE FIELD IN 
BERMUDA. 

Our graphic illastration shows 
this most luscioiu of all the tropi- 
cal fruits at home, in its native 
Bermuda, where it is cultivated 
in larffe fields, the slips being 
planted wherever there is earth 
enough among the rocks. The 
pine-apples grow on stems about 
a foot high, with a crown ot long 
spiked leaves, and the fruit in the 
middle. They are rips in May, 
when the whole field is cut down. 
In addition to the large numbers 
that are exported both to domes- 
tic and foreign ports, considerable 
quantities are canned for eziK>rta- 
tion. Fine as are the West Indian 
pine-apples, those grown under 



a grt>at many other lessons which 
they will luarn as readily as a 
dog or cat. But you mast take 
the trouble to study their ways 
and get on the right side of them. 

One day I hod been reading in 
a book how spiderb managed to 
get their wubs across streams and 
roads, and from the top of one tall 
tree to another. I went out and 
caught a large garden spidar, one 
of those blue-gray, sprawling fel- 
lows, and fixed him up for my 
experiment. 

I took a stick about eighteen 
inches in length and fastened a 
piece of iron to one end of it so 
that the stick would stand up on 
that end of itself. Then I put 
this stick in a large tub of water, 
and placed the spider on top of 



strings of web were floating 
away in the slight breeze that 
was blowing. After a little one 
of those threads touched the edge 
of the tub and stuck fast, as all 
spider webs will do. 

This was just what Mr. Spider 
was looking for, and the next mo- 
ment he took hold of his web and 
gave it a jerk, as a sailor does a 
rope when he wishes to see how 
strong it is or to make ''it fast. 
Having satisfied himself that it 
was fast at the other end, he 
gathrred it in till it was tight 
and straight, and then ran on it 
quickly to the shore ; a rescued 
castaway saved by his own in- 
genuity. 

Spiders are not fools, if they are 
ugly; and He who made all things 



evening comes on they sally forth, 
often doing great harm to the 
fruit on the neighboring planta- 
tions. In some parts of Java 
they are so numerous that it is 
found necessary to protect thefruit 
trees with huge nets. The ex- 
tent of their flights through the 
airissomethingastonishing. They 
sometimes drop to the ground 
and hop along with a shuflling 
kind of leap, but if they are 
alarmed, they spring to tho near- 
est tree and in a moment reach 
its top by a scries of bonrda. Out 
upon the branches they dart, and 
with a rush are off into space. 
Saning through the air like some 
great bird, down they go oblique- 
ly, swift as an arrow, a hundred 
and fify feet or more, rising again 




c . rcc! them in ilavor, and 

• -L. Vi I • d a ruuch higher price in 
luarKoV. o tu ill England, where 
thi'ir I uiiivft'.ioii ! ' hot-houses — 
wnich was onco i.jirarded as the 
highest triumph ot'thi> horticultu- 
ral art — is now comparatively 
easy, and is ono of the laiurios 
of wealthy establishments. Thoy 
are propagated chiefly by means 
of suckers, and also hv tho 
crowns, while new varieties are 
obtained from seed from the par- 
tially wild plants. 

FUN WITH A SPIDER. 
Spiders in many respects are 
just like other animals, and can 
be tamed and petted and taught 



SCti 



I the stick. I wanted to see if he 
[could get to the "land," which 
I was the edge of the tub, without 
! any help. He ran down first one 
I side of the stiok and then (he 
'other; each time he would stop 
[ when he touched the water, and 
shaking his foot as a cat does, he 
i would run up again. At last he 
came to the conclusion that he 
; was entirely surrounded by water 
: — on an island, in fact. After re- 
maining perfectly quiet for a long 
while, during which I have no 
doubt he was arranging his plans, 
he began running around the top 
of the stick, an'' throwing out 
great coils of web with his hind 
feet. In a few minutes 'ittle fine 



has a care and thouarht for all. 
The earth is full of the know- 
ledge ofGod. — Christian at Work. 



THE C'OLUGO. 

In the forest.sof the islands con- 
stituting the Indian Archipelago 
is found a curious flying animal 
that forms the connecting link be- 
tween the lemur and the liat. The 
natives call it the colugo, and also 
the '• flying-fox," but it is more 
like a flying monkey, as the 
lemurs are cousins of the mon- 
keys. Like the bats, these ani- 
mals sleep in tho day-time hang- 
ing from the limbs and branches 
ot trees, head downward ; but as 



in a graceful curve and alighting 
safely on a distant tree. In these 
great leaps they carry their 
young, which cling to them or 
sometimes follow them in their 
headlong flight, uttering hoarse 
and piercing cries. The colngos 
live almost exclusively on fruit, 
preferring plantains and the 
young and tender leaves of the 
cocoa-palms, thongh some writers 
aver that they have seen them dart 
into the air and actually catch 
birds. The flying lemurs are per- 
fectly harmless, and so gentle as 
to be easily tamed. They have 
lovely dark eyes and very in- 
telligent and knowing faces. — C. 
F. Holder, in St Nicholas for April. 

«• 



J 






GULLING THE PBLICAP^ 

Tho seagull has two prominent 
characteristics, wit and impu- 
dence, which it exercises for its 
own benefit at the expense of 
its fellows. It is not at all nice 
in its choice of victims, but 
practises its rogueries with re- 
gard only to its own safety and 
profit. If the victim be small, 
then force alone is resorted to to 
obtain the coveted object, which 
is always something to eat; if 
strong, then wit is brought into 
play; and if stupid, then impu- 
dence accomplishes the same re- 
sult. Nor is the gull unaware 
seemingly of the ludicrousness of 
the part it so often plays of mak- 
ing others do the work it ought 
and can do itself, as may be seen 
in its dealings with the pelican. 

The brown pelican though its 
numbers have been greatly less- 
ened, is still plentifully found 
along the shores of the Gulf of 
Mexico, and in Florida especially 
may be encountered without dit- 
iiculty. It is indefatigable in two 
pursits — first fishing and then 
eating. 

It is a ponderous, clumsy bird, 
with a body ns large as a swan's 
but with enormous wings which 
enable it to fly with case and 
power and almost wilh grace. 
The head, which U almost, nil bill, 
is not pretty, but, what is bettor, 
it is eminently uselul, for it com- 
bines iish-spi^ar and luuch-uasket 
in one. The upper ])iirt of the 
bill terminates in a hook which is 
fatal to a fish, and the lower part 
is hung with an olastic pouch in- 
to which the captured prey are 
deposited until desired for eat- 
ing. 

As it has large webbed feet and 
swims well, it catches a irreat 
many fish, just as the ducks do ; 
but It also has a very picturesque 
way of capturing its finny prey. 
It Bails majestically over the 
water at » considerable height 
abo\-e it, glancing sharply about 
for victims in the transparent cle' 
ment below, until, catching a 
glimpse of one favorably disposed 
for capture it launches itself 
straight downward, and with bill 
projecting and wings folded 
cleaves the air like a bolt, trans- 
fixing the fish and by the impetus 
of its fall disappearing under the 
water, to return to the surface, 
however, with all the buoyancy 
of a cork, and with the quarry 
comfortably tucked away for fu- 
ture reference. 

Having labored earnestly in 
this way until its pouch is full, 
the pelican seeks a long low lodge 
of rocks, and there in company 
with his fellows takes up his po- 
sition in solemn earnestness to 
enjoy the fruits of his toil. A skil 
ful toss of the head shoots a fish 
from the reserToir into the throat, 
and a gulp lends it on its way into 
the stomach. A little time for the 
pleasurable sensation of digestion, 

^and again the head is tossed. 

$ And so the game is played with 



REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THK "NORTHERN MESSENGER." 



117 y 



regularity by the whole grotesque 
line. The long heads are some- 
times turned about and rested on 
the shoulders pointing backward, 
or more freouently are held point- 
ing vertically downward. 

Although a large and clumsy 
creature tho pelican is not neces- 
sarily stupid ; but by dint o[ fre- 
quent tossing of Ihe well laden 
I>ouch it becomes at once gorged 
and dull, and then is the golden 
opportunity of the gull. 

He impudently alights upon (he 
very head of his victim, and waits 
patiently until the i)elican re- 
ceives warning from within that 



dence of enjoying the trick votj 
little less than the booty. 

It might bo supposed that the 
pelicans would learn wisdom in 
the course of time, but they do 
not seem to have done so yet, for 
day after day along the coral 
reefs of the Florida coast may be 
seen long lines of gormandizing 
pelicans entertaining gulls in this 
way.— Sfien/iAt American. 



THE 



VIRTUE OF A 
FUL FACK. 



CHEER- 



In one of the boarding schools 
situated in a densely-populated 




dULI.l.N'U THE PELICAN. 



another fish is wanted. Up goes 
the bill, open gapes the awful 
mouth, out shoots a doomed fish — 
not into tho ready (hroat.however, 
but into the waiting hill of the 
gull, which has adroitly twisted 
its head so that it can see all that 
is exposed of tho pelican's internal 
economy, and has snatched the 
morsel and flown with a wild 
scream of laughter to eat it at its 
leisure, if indeed a gull ever had 
such a state of being. 

The pelican is almost too stupid 
to know that it has been robbed, 
but the gull gives every evi- 



district of Glasgow, Scotland, on 
the morning immediatelysucceed- 
ing the short vacation at the New 
Year time, the young lady and 
gentleman teachers at the head 
of the "infant " section were made 
tho delighted recipients of a pre- 
sent from their young charges. 
The gifts, which were entirely 
unlocked for, consisted of two of 
those highly ornate short-cakes, 
with appropriate sentiments in 
sugar which we were all as chil- 
dren familiar with, and which as 
" old fogies " we do not entirely 
taboo. The purchase, doubtless. 



had been made at imo of the 
neighboring confectioners, and 
the young donors laid (heir offer- 
ings blushingly and in childish 
fashion, without a word, before 
their teachers. Both were alike 
astonished, but the gentleman 
managed to stammer ont some 
thanks. The young lady's delight 
was more lingering, and she, 
blushing, inquired what she had 
done to merit such kindness. For 
a time no response was made, 
until at last a chubby boy on a 
back bench chirruped out, "'Cause 
you're aye smilin' Miss." It was 
a day of smiles after that. — Ex. 



A PLUCKY BOA-CONSTRIC- 
TOR. 

The Rev. Mr. Ladd, sent about 
two years ago by the American 
Missionary Association to make 
arrangements for establishing 
missions in the region of the Up- 
per Nile, gives the following ac- 
count of an adventure with a 
snake on his way down the river. 
"Doctor and I were sitting on the 
bridge seeing what we could see, 
when I discovered a huge snake 
in the water swimmingslowly and 
trying to cross the river. I rushed 
for (he shot-gun, and although we 
had almost got beyond range, gave 
him both barrels with good effect. 
I jumped into the small boat with 
a number of men ; the steamer 
put about and we went after that 
snake. As we iieared him, how- 
ever he began to show signs of 
life, and Doctor, fearing he might 
get away, fired two shots at him^ 
with the rifle from tho bridge. 
The second ball struck, but 
glanced, leaving not the slightest 
trace of a mark, but stunned him 
so that he turned over on his back. 
We picked him up and found that 
we had got hold of a boa-constric- 
tor. As soon as he was landed in 
the boat he came to again, and 
made it lively for us. His strength 
was something remarkable. He 
ran his head a little way under a 
board, and six men pulling with 
all their might and main could 
not get him out. He came out 
when ho got ready, but thea we 
had a rope around him, and hauled 
him on deck. There was a scat- 
tering of the crowd then. We 
choked him to death, cut his teeth 
out, and put him away. He came 
to life again, and broke one of the 
supports of the water-jar. Then 
Ibrahim stood on that snake's head 
till he was dead. We hung him 
up. He came to life again and 
nearly got away. Then we beat 
him on the head with a club till 
he was " as dead as a door nail," 
He came to life again ! No use I 
We determined to conquer him 
this time, and proceeded to skin 
him. This was too much for him, 
and he concluded to remain dead 
He measured 9 ft. 6 in. in length, 
and 11{ in. around. I have pre- 
served the skin and hope to have 
it stuffed. The sailors will eat 
the flesh." 



a 



r 



lis 



REPRINTED STORIES, FHOM THK "NORTHERN MESSENGER.' 



A BIRD THAT HELPS ITSELF 
TO OY8TER8. 

This wonderrul fallow, I'm told, 
oftens oysters with his bill. The 
longer mandible is thrust between 
the valves, and then turned so as 
to wedge open the shell ; in fact, 
it is used as an oysterman uses his 
knife. The oytser is then cut 
awav with tho upper blade and 
swallowed. Sometimes the oyster 
closes upon the whole beak, in 
which case the bird bangs the 



i 




SIDE-VIEW AND TOP-VIEW OF THK 
BEAK or THE SCIBSOR-BILL. 

shell against a stone so as to break 
the hinge and expose the inhabi- 
tant, which is immediately 
scooped out. He also skims 
along jnst over the surface of the 
sea, picking up whatever he can 
find to eat. While thus darting 
about, the bird utters loud and 
exultant cries, as if proud of its 
skill.— S/. Nicholas. 



BABIES IN SCANDINAVIA. 

The peasants like grand names 
for their little ones, such as 
Adolph, Adricin, Qotfried, Gnsta- 
vus, for boys ; and Josephina, 
Thora, Ingeborg for girls; and if 
thevhave no name prepared tbey 
seek one in the almanac for the 
particular day of baby's birth. It 
is ' baptized " the next Sunday 
and taken to church by the god- 
mother, who provides the chris- 
tening garments, which are often 
trimmed with colored bows, while 
the infant has beads around its 
neck and wears a cap with very 
little border. The clergyman 
holds it well over the font and 
pours water over the back of the 
head three times, and then wipes 
with a towel. As the baby is 
swathed in six-inch-wido band' 
ages so that it cannot move its legs 
and sometimes not even its arms, 
it is obliged to lie very passive 
during this ceremonial. The 
peasants have their reasons for 
this swathing, the first of which 
is that they think it makes the 
limbs grow straiirht ; the second 
that it turns baby into a compact 
bundle to carry. When swathed 
thus, infants have been said to re- 
semble the tail of a lobster, or 
even its whole body. In the 
north they are often hung from a 
long, springy pole stuck in the 
wall, to be out of the way ; and, 
being by nature quiet, they are 
supposed not to mind it Their 
cradles, wh'ch are very primitive, 
are also frequently suspended by 
a spiral spring from the roof, 
which must be more comfortable 
than the pole Both in Swedish 
and Norwegian Lapland, people 
take these " swaddlings " to 



church. But instead of carrying 
them into church they make a 
hole in the snow outside in the 
churchyard and bury them in it, 
leaving a smallaperture for breath- 
ing purposes. The babies are 
kept splendidly warm, while their 
friends within the sacred build- 
ing have their beards trozen to 
their fur coats bv the freeiing of 
their own breaths, As soon as a 
peasant boy can walk, he is put 
into trousers, buttoned inside his 
jacket; and these are so baggy 
behind that it is often amusing to 
see him. This bagginess is fre- 
quently due to the fact that the 
trousers originally belonged to 
his father, but were cut off at the 
legs and simply drawn round the 
boy's waist without reducing their 
size. Add to this that the feet are 
shod either with little jack-boots 
or wooden shoes, and we have a 
strange picture. Their stockings 
either have leather heels or no 
heels at all, so that the mother is 
spared the trouble oi mending 
them. Neither has she much la- 



prize of the higu<illing of Ood in scribes the mar. ler in which thia 



9hm 

7 



Christ .TesuB," a crown that is in 
corruptible. 

Now what are yon going to do 
about the weights, the things 



industry is ca /led on. The sur- 
roundings are certainly pictu- 
resque. An encampment has been 
formed in the beech woods, and 



that hinder you from running this suitable trees are selected and 



race ? you know some things do 
seem to hinder you; will you 
keen them or lay them aside ? 
Will you only lay aside something 
that every one can see is hinder- 
ing you, so that you will get a 
little credit for putting it down, 
and keep somathing that your 
own little conscience knows is a 
real hinderance,though no one else 
knows anythmg at all about it ? 
Oh, take St. Paul's wise and holy 
advice, and make up your mind 
to lay aside every weight. 

Ditierent persons have different 
weights ; we must find out what 
ours are, and give them up. One 
finds that if sne does not get up 
directly she is called, the time slips 
by, and there is not enough left 
for quiet prayer and Bible read- 
ing. Then here is a little weight 
that mutt be laid aside. Another 




HELPINO HIItSELF TO OYSTEB8. 



bor with their heads, the hair of 
which is cropped as close as a 
convict's. The girls also wear 
wooden shoes, but they have 
gingham kerchiefs or caps on their 
heads, frocks down to their heels 
and quaint pinafores. — Little 
Folk's Magazine. 



NO WEIGHTS. 

"Letatlaraildearory wtUliL' -Bab. 12: 1. 

If you were going to run a race, 
you would first put down all the 
parcels you might have been 
carrying. And if you had a heavy 
little parcel in your pocket, you 
would take that out and lay it 
down too, because it would hin- 
der you in running. You would 
know better than to say, " I will 
put down the parcels which I 
have in my hands, but nobody 
can see the one in my pocket, so 
that one won't matter ! " You 
would " lay aside every weight.'' 

You have a race to run to-day, 
a little piece of the great race that 
is set before you. God has set a 
splendid prize before you, " the 



is at school, and finds that he gets 
no good, but a little harm, when 
he goes much with a certain boy. 
Then he must lay that weight 
aside. Another takes a story book 
up to bed, and reads it up to the 
last minute, and then her head is 
so full of the story that she only 
says words when she kneels down, 
and cannot really pray at all. Can 
she doubt that this is a weight 
which must be laid aside ? 

It may seem hard to lay our 
pet weight down ; but, oh, if you 
only knew how light we feel 
when it is laid down, and how 
much easier it is to run the race 
which God has set before us ! — 
Morning Bells. 

HOW WOODEN SHOES ARE 
MADE. 
An industry that cannot last 
many years more, th:inks to the 
rapid cheapening of leather shoes 
by means of machinery, is the 
manufacture of wooden shoes, still 
the only wear of thousands of 
French peasantry. A writer in 
Chambers's Journal pleasantly de- 



felled. Each will probably give 
six dozen pairs of wooden shoes. 
Other kinds of wood are spongy 
and soon penetrated with damp, 
but the beech sabots are light, of 
close grain, and keep the feet dry 
in spite of snow and mud, and in 
this respect are greatly anperior 
to leather. 

All is animation. The men cut 
down the tree ; the trunk is sawn 
into lengths, and if the pieces 
prove too large they are divided 
into quarters. The first work- 
man fashions the sabots roughly 
with the hatchet, taking care to 
give the bend for right and left ; 
the second takes it in hand, 
pierces the hole for the interior, 
scoops the wood oat with an in- 
iustrument called the cuiller. 

The third is the artist of the 
company ; it is his work to finish 
and polish it, carving a rose or 
primrose upon the top if it be for 
the fair sex. Sometimes he cuts 
an open border around the edge, 
so that a blue or white stocking 
may be shown by a coquettish 
girl. As they are finished they 
are placed in rows under the 
white shavings ; twice a week the 
apprentice exposes them to a fire, 
which smokes and hardens the 
wood, giving it a warm golden 
hue. The largest sizes are cut 
from the lowest part of the bole, 
to cover the workman's feet who 
is out in rain from morning to 
night. The middle part is for the 
busy house-wife v ho is treading 
the washhouse, the dairy, orstands 
beside the village fountain. Next 
come those of the little shepherd, 
who wanders all day long with 
his flock, and still smaller ones 
for the school boy. Those for the 
babies have the happiest lot ; they 
are seldom worn out. As the 
foot grows the mother keeps the 
little sabots in a corner of her 
cupboard beside the baptismal 
robe. 



A Celebrated Gebhan wri- 
ter mentions " an antique, the 
whole size of which is but 
one inch in length, and one- 
third of an inch in breadth, 
and yet it contains in mosaic tho 
picture of a Mallard duck, which, 
in brilliancy of coloring, and in 
dislincL representation of parts, 
even ofwings and feathers, equals 
a miniature painting. And what 
is most wonderful, on being 
turned, it presents the same pic- 
ture without a discoverable vari- 
ation on the opposite side." 

Nbver Enter upon the duties 
of the day without "casting all 
your care" upon God and seeking 
His guidance and blessing upon 
all things. In answer to this 
prayer many minutes, nay, hours. 
m|y be given you, and thus you < i 
may find " a minute to spare. % 



^H9 



REPRINTED STORIKS, KKOM TIIK 'N>HTIIEMN MKSSKN(JKR." 




^H9 



ii» 



OUTER WALL OF THE ORBiT TKUPLE. 



THE RUINS OF BAALBEO. 

Syria abonnds in names of il- 
loatrions citiei. All aro ancient, 
but Rome have retained import- 
ance to the preaent day. Sach 
especially are Damascus and Bei- 
rut. Others, like Palmyra and 
Baalbec, have lost (heir import- 
ance and are chiefly interesting 
for their wonderful ruins. 

Baalbec lay on the route »i 
an opulent commerce between 
Tripoli, Damascus and the far 
Bast. It was adorned with vast 
temples, in which false deities 
were worshipped wiih great 
pomp. Tho Great Temple ex- 
tended 1 ,100 feet from east to we»t, 
and had a breadth of 870 feet. 
The peristyle of its principal 
courts was compoped of fifty-four 
columns. Each stood 62 feet in 
height, and was eight feet in 
diameter at the base and fire feet 
at the top. Only six of these 
columns now remain upright, and 
they are shown in our second pic- 
ture. They are generally formed 
of only three stones each, united 
by iron dowels. See with what 
rich Corinthian capitals they are 
crowned, and how finely they are 
wrought in every part. 

Tho external walls of the 
temple are built of mossivo stones. 
There are three which measure 
each 63 feet in length by 13 feet 
in height. They are built into 
the wall at a distance of 20 feet 
above the ground. They may be 
seen in our first picture. So 
famous were they that the temple 
was called after them Trilithon, 
or the Three Stone Temple. 

You have often been impressed 
by tho strong denunciations of 
the Old Testament against the 
idolatry of the nations of Syria, 
and you have wondered that the 
people of Israel should have fallen 
under their influence so many 
times, in spito of the Divine warn- 
ings. These massive ruins will 
partly explain the great power 
and influence of the worship of 
Baal in those early days. You 
Ik see how the name Baalbec is de- 
« > rived. Get your Bible and your 

IIH9 



Concordance, and look up tho re 
ferences to that religion. Then, 
in imagination, restore the great 
temple to its original grandeur, 
and fill it with all the pomp 
of the ancient worship, the thou- 
sands of votaries, the smoking 
sacrifices and the cruel practice 
of parents burning their own 
children, and you will not won- 
der at the Divine judgments 
against idolatry. 

Though so firm and so beauti- 
ful, this and all the edifices of 
Baalbec have fallen to decay. 
The worship conducted in them 
was idolatrous and no one cares 
to restore it. But all about in the 
land missionaries are blessed of 
God in establishing churches of 
our Lord Jesus and winning the 
people to love and servo him. It 
will bo far more acceptable to 
Ilira, and far more serviceable to 
the peoplo of Syria, when hun- 
dreds of unpretentious edifices 
are scattered throughout the land, 
and when in each village congre- 
gations can gather for His worship 
every Sabbath day. — Foreign 
Misitonary. 

A SEA CANDLE. 

Ill these days of gas and elec- 
tric lights it seems very strange to 
hear of burning w hale-oil in lamps, 
or oven to use petroleum, but an 
actual candle that grows in tho 
sea and is alive, too, is still more 
strange. 

This candle is tho fattest of 
little fish, and it is found in tho 
Northern seas, tho very region 
whore it i.s most needed. It is 
quite ornamental by moonlight, 
and glitters like pearls in tho 
water because of its shiny armor. 
The Indians ot Russian America 
and Vancouver Island catch the 
littlo fish— which are about as 
largo as smelts— with immense 
rakes, having teeth made of bone 
or sharp-poiaited nails, and every 
time tho rake is swept in one fish 
at least, and sometimes three or 
four, will be found fast on each 
tooth. 

To make them into candles the 



women take a long wooden 
net'dle, and thread it with apiece 
of rush pilh, which i.s drawn 
through the fish from head to tail. 
When this wick is lighted the fish 
burns steadily in its rough candle- 
stick— only a bit of wood split at 
one end to hold Iho candle — and 
ci ves a light britfht enough to read 
By. Large quantities of these use- 
ful little fisii are turned into oil 
— but not to be burned in lamps. 
It is the favorite supply of winter 
food, and helps to keep out tho 
terrible cold of those long North- 
ern winters. When Mrs. Indian 
has oil-making on hand the chil- 
dren probably find it worse than 
washing-day or house-cleaning 
and are glad enough to take their 
littlo bows and arrows or spears 
and go off until things are quiet 
again around the lodge. 

First the squaw makes five or 
six largo fires, and throws a num- 
ber of large round pebbles into 
each to be heated very hot. Four 
large square boxes of pine-wood 
are ready by each fire, and in 
every box she piles a layer offish, 
which she covers with cold water, 
and then puts in five or six of the 
heated stones. When the smoke 
hasclearedaway piecesof wood are 
laid on the stones, then more fish, 
water, stones and wood, until the 
box is filled. The liquid from 
this box is used for tho next one i 
in place 



ing oil is then nkimmed off from 
tho surface. This oil is put into 
bottle.s which are also found in 
the sen. An immense seu-woed 
with hollow stalks that widen 
like a flask at the root is gathered 
for the purpose, and each bottle will 
hold marly a quart of oil. Candle- 
fish is the every-day name of tho 
oil-giver, but on great occasions 
it is Sulmo padfir.uf. — Harper's 
Young People. 

In " Wanderings in a Wild 
Country," a lK)ok lately published 
in London, tho author tells how 
a queer bird called a morroop or 
cassowary manages to get its fish 
dinners. One day the man saw 
one of these great fowls come 
down to tho water's edge and 
watch the water for some minutes. 
It then waded in to where tho 
water was about three feet deep, 
and partly squatted, with spread 
wings, ruffled feathers and shut 
eyes. It kept perfectly still for as 
much as a quarter of an hour, then 
suddenly closed its wings and 
stepped to the bank, where shak- 
ing itself thoroughly a quantity 
of small fishes fell from under its 
wings and from among its 
feathers. These were picked up 
quickly and swallowed. Tho 
fish had mistaken the feathers 
for a kind of weed in which they 
fish that 



I 



hido from the larger 
of water, and the float- { prey upon them. 




INTERIOR t)F THE GREAT TEMPLE. 



^H» 



rJ-20 
Monn 



REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGERS 



W 



MORE WONDERFUL THAN 
THE TELEGRAPH 

Oeorgo mid Thomns Uatei 
had often expressed a desire to 
visit the telegraph office One 
day, after school, these boys 
went into their fathers ware- 
house, just opposite the telegraph 
office, and askod him it he would 
be so kind as to take them to see 
thib wotiderful invention. Their 
father was not so occupied as to 
prevent his granting their re- 
quest ; and tno next moment 
tney were by the side of the 
agent, looking at the performance 
of the little instrument that noted 
d«wn intelligence like a living 
thing 

The boys entreated their father 
to send a message to their uncle 
in Washington. This he con 
sented to do ; but the little 
machine was so busy that there 
was no opportunity to gratify 
them. 

"Tic, tic, tic, dot, dot, click 
click, click," went the little pointer. 
By and by it ceased for an instant ; 
but just as the agent was going 
to put in his claim it began 
again. After a while their turn 
came The agent hurried to put 
in a W for Washington, and ' Ay, 
ay,' was the reply, to let him 
know that his wish was attended 
to and the message was sent. 

In the evening the boys could 
talk of nothing but the wonders 
of the magnetic telefrrapli. 

'' Is it not the most wonderful 
ihing you ever heard of. father ?" 
^aid Thomas 

" No, replied his father ; " I 
have heard of things more won- 
derful. 

" But, father," said George, 
' you never heard of any message 
being sent so quickly as by this 
means, have you ? " 

" Yes, I have, my son." 

" And you receiving an 
answer as quickly ? " added 
George. 

" Yes much sooner," replied 
his father 

" Are you in earnest, father ? " 
said Thomas, drawing his chair 
close to his father, and looking 
eageily in his face. " Is it 
possible that you know of a more 
wonderful way of communication 
than by telegtaph V " 

" I never was more in earnest, 
ray son, than when I say yes to 
your question." 

" Weil, father," said George, 
"do tell me what it is, and in 
what respect it is better thau the 
telegraph ? 

" In the first place," said his 
father, " you do not have to wait 
to send your messag.; while others 
are attended to , for your message 
can go with thousaiid.s of others, 
without an interruption or hin- 
deiance '' 

' So Hint i.s an improvement,' 
said George; "for we had to 
wait a long time, you know '' 

" And in the next place, ' con- 
tinued his father, " there is no 
need of wires or electricity, or 
machinery, to ;iid the mode of 



communication of which I sneak , 
and what is more wondurfnl than 
all IS the fact that you need not 
oven frptfs^ the nature of yout 
communication, as before you do 
so vour answer may bo returned, 
though it is necessaiy that you 
truly and sincerely desire a 
favorable reception for your re- 
quest Besides all this, the plan 
of communication of which I 
speak IS superior to all others 
from the fact that you need not 



and praying, and confeMing my 
■in and the sin of the people 
Israel, and presenting my anp 
plication before the Lord my Qod, 

. . yea, while I was ■peaking 
in prayer, even the man Oabiiel, 

. . being caniedtofly^wiftly, 
touched mc about the time of the 
evening oblation And informed 
me, and talked with me. and said, 
O Daniel, I am now come forth 
to give then skill and uiiderBtaiid- 
mg. At the beginning of thy 



«« 



II 



resort to any particular place to ; supplications the commandment 

came forth, and I am come to 
show thee — " 

" I see father, from these pas- 
sages," said Thomas, " that you re- 
fer to prayer." 

" And I am sure yon will both 
agree with me that this mode of 
communication with heaven ii 
more wonderful than any other, 
for by this means our desires can 
be immediately known to our 
heavenly Father, and we receive 



send your request In the lonely 
desert, on the trackless ocean, in 
the crowded city, on the moun- 
tain top, by night or by day, in 
sickness andhealth, and especially 
in troable and afHiclion, the way 
of communication is open to all. 
And the applicants can never t)e 
so numerous that the simplest 
desire of the feeblest child, 
properly presented, shall not 
meet immediate attention "' 



" Is there any account published an answer." — Standard 




MOKAL. — CHOOSE YDUK FUlENDtJ WISILY 



of this wonderful manner of com- 
municating your wishes ? '' in- 
quired Thomas, 

" Yes, there is, my son ; and I 
hope your interest will not be 
diminished when I teli you it is 
to be found in the Bible " 

" In the Bible I ' exclaimed both 
boys. 

"Certainly, my sons, and if 
you will t>oth get your Bibles, I 
will tell you where to find the 
passages confirming what I have 
said " 

The children opened their 
Bibles, and found, as then father 
directed them, the twenty-fourth 



JOHN WESLEY'S ESCAPE. 

One night, a father was roused 
by the cry of fire from the street 
Little imagining the fire was in 
his own house, he opened his bed- 
room door and found the place 
full of smoke, and that the roof 
already burned through 



that ttood near the window, and 
waa aeen from (he yard. There 
waa no time for procuring a 
ladder, but one man waa hoisted 
on the ahonldeia ol another. And 
thiu he waa taken out A moment 
after the roof tell in 

When the child waa rescued, 
the father cried out ' '' Come, 
neighbors, let ua kneel down ; let 
ui give thanka to Ood He has 

?;iTen me all my eight children , 
et the house go , I am rich 
enongh " John Wesley always 
remembered this deliverance 
with the deepest gratitude. Un- 
der one of the portraits pabliahed 
daring hia life is a representation 
of a honae on fire, with the scrip- 
tural inquiry, " Is not this a brand 
plucked out of the burning? " — 
CHriftian Intetligencfr 



WOULD NOT DO FOR A LINEN 
MANUFACTURER. 

There was a lad in Ireland, who 
was put to work in a linen factory; 
and while he was at work there a 
piece of cloth waa wanted, to be 
sent out, which was short of the 
quantity it ought to be, but the 
master thought it might be made 
the length by stretching. Ho 
thereupon unrolled the cloth, tak- 
ing hold of one end of it himself, 
and the boy at the other. He 
then said, " Pull, Adam, pull !" 

" I cannot, sir " , 

" Why ? " said the master. 

"Because it is wrong, sir," and 
and he refused to pull. Upon this 
the master said he would not do 
for a linen manufacturer, and 
sent him home. 

But the boy became the learned 
and famous Dr Adam Clark, — 
Christian iHtelligencer . 



TOMS GOLD-DUST. 



Directing hi.s wile and two girls 
to rise and fly for their lives, he 
burst open the nursery, door where 
the maid was sleeping with five 
children. They snatched up the 
youngest, an<l hade the 
follow her; the three eldest did 
so. but John, who ^^a.s tlieii six 
years old. was not awakened, and 



verse of the sixty-fifth chapter of ,„ the alarm was forgotten The 



Isaiah, which Thomas reail as fol 
lows : " And it shall come to pass, 
that, before they call, I will answer, 
and while they arespoaking I will 
hear '' 

Next George found and read 
the ninth verse of the fifty-eighth 
chapter of Isaiah ; " Then shall 
thou call, and the Lord shall 
answer ; thou shall cry, and he 
shall say here I am." 

" Now turn," said their father, 
"to Daniel, ninth chapter, twen- 
tieth, twenty-first, twenty-second 
and twenty-third verses." 

• And while I was speaking, 



rest of the family escaped, — some 
through the windows, others by 
the garden door; the mother to 
use her own expression, "waded 
through the fire." Just then, John 
was heard cryiiiif in the nursery. 
The father ran to the stairs, but 
they were so nearly consumed 
that the/ could not bear his 
weight ; and being utterly in 
despair he fell upon his knees in 
the hall, and in agony commended 
the soul of the child to God. John 
had been awakened by the light, 
and finding it impossible to escape 
by the door climbed upon a chest 



" That boy knows how to take 
care of his gold-dust," said Tom's 
uncle often to himself, and some- 
times aloud 

Tom went to college ; and every 
account they heard of him he was 
going ahead, laying a solid founda- 
tion for the future 

" Certainly,' said his uncle, 
others ' " certainly ; that boy, I tell you, 
knows how to take care of his 
gold-dust " 

" Gold dust ' ' Where did Tom 
get gold-dust? He was a poor 
boy He had not been to Cali- 
fornia. He never was a miner. 
When did he get gold-dust? 
Ah ! he has seconds and minutcH, 
and these are the gold-dust ol 
time — specks and particles of 
time which boys and girls and 
grown-up people are apt to waste 
and throw away, Tom knew 
their value. His father, our min- 
ister, had taught him that every 
speck and particle of time was 
worth its weight in gold, and 
his son took care of them as it 
they were. Take care of your f \ 



gold-dust \—Sel 



«H^ 



-SH9 



«H0 



ndow, and 
d. Thero 
ocnring u 
aa hoistod 
ther. And 
A moment 

■ readied, 
• •■ Gome, 
I down ; let 
L He has 
children , 
[ am rich 
ey always 
leliveranco 
tude. Un- 
g publiahed 
resentation 
1 the scrip- 
this a brand 
irning?" — 



R A LINEN 
RER. 

reland, who 
len factory ; 
vork there a 
anted, to be 
short of the 
)e, but the 
ht be made 
tching, lie 
le cloth, tak- 
[ it himself, 
other. Ho 
m, pull!- 

I 
master, 
[ig, sir." and 
1. Upon this 
fould not do 
jturer, and 

) the learned 
urn Clark.— 



DUST. 

how to take 

said Tom's 

If, and some- 

; and every 
f him he was 
solid lounda- 

his uncle, 

, I tell you, 

care of his 



lere did Ton; 

was a poor 
been to Call- 
ras a miner, 
gold-dust >. 
and minutes, 

gold-dust o( 

particles ol' 
nd girls and 
i apt to waste 

Tom knew 
her, our mni- 
m that every 

of time was 
in gold, and 
of them as il 
care of your M 



<QH^ 



RKl'RINTKD STOUIKS. KIto.M THE " NORTH KRN MRSSKNGER." 



121 



«H9| m^ 



THE HELMET CA.SSOWAUY. 

Thu casNownrv (Cusnarinsi, ol 
which not Ii-kn than niiio distinrt 
^I'oien have been discovered, dif- 
fers from the emn in having a 
somewhat more slender body and 
hair-like featherM. The helmet is 
quite remarkable, and is composed 
of a cellular bony NubMlunce. It 
is barely perceptible in the young 
bird, not reaching its full devel- 
opment until the bird arrives at 
adult ago. The plumage ol the 
body is hair-like, with a tuft ol 
down at the root of each shaft. 
The short, thick foot has three 
toes. The height of the bird is 
about five feet. These birds are 
found in the Malaccas. 

The helmet cassowary (Casu- 
arins galeatus, Struthio casuarius), 
shown in the engraving, has been 
the lougest known of this family. 



cilsliimed haiiills. He nays; — 
" These birds wander through the 
great mountttiii tbiesl.s of Ceraia, 
and subsist chielly on fallen fruit.s 
and herbage. '1 b,. female |ayn 
Irom three to live larife lieaiililuily 
granulated green eggs, and male 
and fuinule sit alternately >ipou 
thuiu tor the space of u month. 

All the cassovvnries whii'h have 
been taken to hurope were ea|>- 
tured when yoiniif l)y the natives 
and brought up by them. This 
is perhap.-* the reason that manv 
of them are tam(>d and appear to 
be gentle and coiililing, although 
their original disposition is the 
reverse of this. They are natur- 
ally fierce, and take otfence with- 
out any provocation. They are 
greatly excited by the sight of a 
scarlet cloth, and have a great 
antipathy toward ragged or un- 



vity, but it is very seldom that 
any yuung are raised. It is not 
olten that a pair call be obtained 
that will livu together in peace. 

Another species of cassowarv 
was di.Hcovered in the island of 
New UrilHiii. Its native title in 
moornk, A pair of those birds 
Were purchased by Dr. Bennett 
in IS.IT Irom Captain Devlin, and 
were sent to Kntrland. They were 
very lame, ami ran around every- 
where in the house and yard 
without feor. In timj they be- 
came so obtrusive that they dis- 
turbed the servants in their work, 
lor they would crowd through 
doors left ajar, follow the servants 
step by step, rummage in all the 
corners of the kitchen, spring 
upon the table and chairs, to the 
great flisquiet of the cook. If any 
one attempted to catch them. 



into the starch, and .tttended to 
the summons. On her reiurii the 
cull was gone, and she discovered 
that the mooruk wa.s the thief, 
its beak and being covered with 
the starch." The height ol this 
bird is about live feet when 
standing erect. — Vrum Btelim'% 

Animal lift, 

■^- • 

THE ARTILLERY FERN. 

The artillery fern, or flower, as 
it in sometimes called, is a curious 
and beautiful plant which is not 
very generally known outside of 
rare collections or of florists' 
green houses. It acquires its 
singular name from the military 
and explosive fashion with whicn 
it resists the action of water upon 
it. if a branch of the fern, cov* 
ercd with its small red seeds, be 
dipped into water and then held 




THE HELMET OAaSCWAiiy. 



The plumage is black, the back 
part of the head ijreeii, tlte nock 
is colored with bUu-, violei, and 
red, the bill is black, and llie loot 
a yellowish gray. The young 
birds are brown. 

All travellers who tell us of the 
wild life of this bird agree that it 
inhabits the thickest I'orest.s, aiul 
leads a very retired lilc, and at 
the least appearance of dauber 
it hastens away, and seeks to 
withdraw itself irom the sight of 
men. How difHcult it is to ob- 
serve them may be seen from the 
fact that Miller never hiul the op- 
portunity of seeing a lassowiiry, 
although he found their tracks 
and heard the noise of the bird 
fleeing through the thicket, and 
Wallace in Ceram could not make 
a single capture, although he 
sought for the bird in all its ac- 



clean persons, sometimes attack- 
ing them. 

They sometimes become un- 
governable in captivity, and the 
kiH'ix'rs of zooloi;i(;al iriirdens say 
that one raunot bi! too cautious 
with the cassowary. " When ir- 
ritated, tliev are lorinidalile anta- 
gonists, turning rapidly about 
and launchinir a shower of kicks, 
which may do no small damage, 
their (.(I'jet being heightened by 
the sharp eiuws with which the 
toes !i-o armed." In conlinement 
tliey often swallow whole apples 
and oranges. In the gardens 
they are given a mixture of bread, 
grain, cut up api)les, etc., but it 
has been ol)sorved that young 
fowls or owls which come ac- 
cidentally in their way are de- 
stroyed. 

They often lay .ggs in capti- 



they wMild run quickly around i 
or creep under the furniture, de- 
fending themselves viijorously 
with l)ill and ieet. 'floft free.they 
would go back of their own ac- 
cord to their aacustomed dwelling 
place. Sometimes, when the 
maid attempted to drive them 
away, they would strike out at 
her and tear her clothes. They 
would run into the stall between 
the horses and cat with them 
from the manger. Often they 
wouUl push open the door of Dr. 
Bennett's study, run quietly 
around, look at everything, and 
go their way. Dr. Bennett says : 
•• It was dangerous to leave any 
object around which was capabli- 
of being siwallowed. The servant 
was starching some muslin cuff's, 
and heiring thj bell ring she 
sqi; >eied up the cuff, threw it 



up to the light there soon com- 
mences a strange phenomenon. 
First one bud will explode with a 
sharp little crack throwing into 
the air its pollen in the shape of 
a small cloud of yellow dust. This 
will bo followed by another and 
another, until very soon the entire 
fern-like branch will be seen dis- 
charging these miniature volleys 
with their tiny puHs of smoke. 
This occurs whenever the plant is 
watered, and the elfect of the en- 
tire fern in this condition of re- 
bellion is very curious as well as 
beautiful. As the buds thus open 
they assume the shape of a miniii- 
ture Geneva cross, too small to the 
naked eye to attract much atten- 
tion, but under a magnifying glass 
they are seen to possess very rare 
and delicate beauty.— Chriilian 
Union. 



i 



r^, 



122 



MERRY CinnSTMAS. 
MA! 

One idea wnt uppermoit in 
threo little minds wnnn bedtime 
came on a certain 24th of Docem- 
ber. Ethel thought of it firal, 
but the youngoronoaauite agreed 
(ha> ri'ry oiiriy in tno morning 
Umr would got up and rusb into 
their mother's room with the cry 
»!' " Merry Christmas." 

" I suppose sho won't mind," 
•aid Dora, who wns tho thought- 
'nl one of the family ; bat the 
•Qggestion was sno .ted. When 
had mamma been known to 
" mind " her children going to her 
at all times ? And it sremed such 
an ordinary, common-place sort of 
fashion to say " Merry 
Christmas" at the break- 
i'ast-tabU ; they wanted 
some new way of giving 
their good wishes: and then 
Ethel had this lucky 
thought, and proposed that 
they should dress them- 
selves quietly before nnrso 
made her appearance, and 
be tho iirsl in the house- 
hold to welcome the happy 
day. 

The prospect was so 
charming, that it kept 
them awake for more than 
an hour after their usual 
time. " Oh, Ethel, Bupposo 
we shuuld not wake till 
nurse comos," said Reggie, 
in an awe-struck whisper. 
It seemed indeed ii dis- 
tressing possibility. 

" You had better go to 
sleep at once,' replied 
Ethel, in her elder-sisterly 
way, which was copied a 
little from nurse. "If you 
don't, Reggie, I expect you 
will sleep on till breakfast." 

It was a good advice, 
but neither giver nor re- 
ceiver seemed able to pro- 
fit by it. "Oh dear," 
sighed Dora, presently, 
" my eyes will not shut, at 
least thay won't keep so. 
Nurse says sometimes 
thinking of running water, 
or counting a flock of 
sheep, sends one to sleep, 
but it is no use tome. I've 
counted sixty-three now, 
and I'm just as wide 
awake as ever." 

Presently mamma came 
to give her usual good- 
nig|it kiss. "All awake ! " 
she said, looking round the nur- 
sery and at each little white bed. 
"What has happened?" 

" Oh, nothing, mamma. It's 
on'y Christmas that keeps us 
awake." 

" Then I am glad that it comes 
bat once a year," said Mrs. Sul- 
wyn, smiling; then bidding them 
good-night agbiu, she went away, 
wondering a little as a soft laugh 
came from the children. Of 
course they laughed witti the con- 
sciousness of the secret which no 
one had found out. 



«KI»HINTRD STORIKS. FROM THK "NORTFIKRN MKSSKNOKR." . 
MAM 



•Hi 



those three pairs of eyes closed ; 
I can only sny it happened at last, 
and also that before daylight next 
morning Ethel's had opened again, 
and she was tiptoeing to the other 
two beds with a "(Jet up, Dora," 
"Oet up, Reggie." 8oftly and 
swiftly each little white-clad 
figure slipped to the ground, and 
then there began such a fumbling 
with buttons and strings, sueh 
work witli curly heads, that it 
seemed surprising nurse (who 
slept in the adjoining room) did 
not hear them. 

Rut at last they were dressed — 
after a fashion— and down theslairs 
they tripped to their mother'sdoor, 
which Ethel opened gently, that 



whatever wnn set before him : the 
bread was loo old, the soup loo 
hot, the milk too rich. In fact, 
he never rume to the table with- 
out grumbling about something, 
and making everybody uncom- 
fortable He clattered his knife 
and fork, and made faces. He 
talked loudly aiul acted so much 
like a little down, that it msde 
his father and mother very miser- 
able. They had often lo send 
him away, or punish him. At the 
same time he talked a great deal 
about what he would do when he 
was a man. He used lo put on 
his father's hat niul take his cane 
and stmt about, just to see how 
it would seem to tie u real man. 




want an^ of that stufi. Then he 
twisted III his chair, and over- 
turned a dish in his neighbor's 
lay He nriod out that he wanted 
to be helped to a big piece of cake. 
"Give me some m*rmalatl«, I tell 
you I " he roared ; " I will have 
some ; I won't cat my suuper if I 
don't hav> it." And hu began to 
eat with hi* mouth open. " Dip- 
ped toast," ho cried, " I hate it." 
And he made such a horrible face 
that it almost caused Fred's h«ir 
to stand on end. 

" He's acting just the name way 
you do, Fred," said one of the 
children. 

From that time Fred began to 
mend his table manners He now 
behaves like a gentleman, 
lie does not roar for what 
he wants. He does not 
make a mess on tho table- 
cloth. Ho does not slop 
his luilk about. He does 
not get spots on his clothes, 
or tii>over backwards in hi» 
chair. Yon would never 
know but ho was already 
a grown man. — Mart/ iV. 
Prescoll, in Our Little Unen. 



A 



FAMILY MISSION- 
ARY SOCIETY. 



MEBKY C11KI8TMA8, MAM.MA 



*. ' I cannot tell you ox .ctly when 



tfaey might peop in. No! she] 
was not asleep, she was really | 
thinking of her little children, 
and of how she might best train I 
them to love and to follow Him 
who once came as a child to earth, i 
when they ran forward with their 
glad shou't of " Meiry Christmas, i 
mamma,\"~The Child's Companion. \ 



TABLE MANNERS. | 

Everybody said that Fred was i 
a bad boy at table. He spilt the \ 
salt, he upset his mug of milk, 
and he knocked over his glass of , 
water He found fault with I 



" I hope you won't spill your 
soup over your jacket when 
you're a real man," said his little 
sister. 

" Men don't wear jackets," Fred 
answered, " That's all girls know 
about it." 

One day, when his father was 
late to tea, Fred slipped into his 
place, and began to ask the other 
children what they would have, 
in a big voice. 

Presently his father caino in 
ond took Fred's seat ; but ho was 
hardly seated before he astonished 
Fred by pushing his plaie away 
and snarling out that he did'ut 



We have a family mis- 
sionary society of which 

I am ])resident, Mr. S 

vice-president, Everett the 
secretary, and Gertie the 
treasurer, while Florence 
and the baby are honorary 
members. Wo have month- 
ly meetings and a family 
box for collections. Everett 
conducts a paj>cr called the 
Missi'itiary Glrniier, and has 
prepared some editorials of 
which his parents are quite 
proud. The others have 
recitations, — except the 
baby, — and wo sing of 
course. Now, I do not sup- 
pose our children are un- 
usually bright, but we have 
really been surprised to 
see how mueh interest 
they take, and how well